


God Bless the Children of the Beast

by Teadum



Category: The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teadum/pseuds/Teadum
Summary: You're Nikki's younger half-sister. After growing up with no one but Nikki to depend on, you have a hard time trusting anyone but your brother, but find a family in his new band Motley Crue.Now, you and your friends have to navigate the tricky waters of fame and all that comes with it throughout the years. The constant ups and downs of the band take their toll on you and your relationship's with it's members, including your brother and your best friend Tommy.Can you hold on to the people that are most important to you?
Relationships: Tommy Lee (Mötley Crüe)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

1973

Frankie smiles at you as he pulls over the tonearm of the record player, T. Rex’s “Solid Gold Easy Action” instantly blaring to life from the speakers. He punches his fists in the air in time with the singer’s shouts, playing along on his new guitar. You smile up at him from your place on his bed, banging your head along with the music just like he does. You hear your mother bang on the door, telling him to turn the music down. Your fall on your side laughing as your brother flips off the door, then cranks the volume up.

Your mother bursts in the room, marching past your brother to remove the tonearm from the record player.

“What’s that?” She ask as she points to Frankie’s new guitar. Her voice was angry and slurred from who knows how many drinks, including the one still in her hand.

“What’s it look like?” Frankie shoots back.

“It’s just a guitar mom.” You reply, hoping to defuse the situation.

“No shit y/b/n, I’m not fucking stupid.” She snaps at you. You wilt under her burning gaze. She looks back at Frankie “Where’d you get it?”

“He probably stole it.” A man you had never seen before leaned against your mother, eyeing your brother with contempt.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Frank asks, glaring back at the man.

“You think I don’t know where you got all this shit?” Your mother spat, picking up one of Frankie’s records and throwing it. You flinch away from the action on instinct even from your seat on the bed.

“So you noticed something I did, for once.” Frankie snaps.

“Don’t you talk to your mother like that you little prick.” The stranger says, looking high as a kite.

“Seriously who the fuck are you?” Frankie asks. Before the man can respond, Frankie cuts him off, “You know what? I don’t even care. Gonna be another you tomorrow anyways.”

The guy rolls his eyes at Frankie, heading towards the door. Your mother and brother are too busy arguing to notice the long, pointed stare he gives you as he stands in the doorway. You pull your legs up, hugging your knees against you chest as you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“You wanna know who this is? He’s another man in my life that you’re gonna drive away. Just like you did your fucking father, and y/b/n’s father.” Your mom says, every word dripping with venom.

“I was two years old you bitch! He left you!” Frankie shouts back. You look out over your knees, tears welling up in your eyes as they dart back and forth between the two of them.

“Then how come he never tried to call you then Frankie?” She says calmly, leaning down to smooth back a piece of his hair.

“Fuck you!” Frankie screams, taking off his guitar and smashing it against the wall. “Get the fuck out of here!” He yells, slamming the door in her face.

He begins wrecking his room in a fit of rage. You sit on his bed, tears spilling down cheeks. You hear your mother shouting as she bangs on the door, demanding to be let in. Frankie looks over at you, hatred still spread across his face. Seeing your tears, he stops. A look of guilt spreads across his face, before it’s quickly replaced by one of determination. He comes over to kneel in front of you.

“It’s gonna be okay y/b/n.” He says, giving you a quick hug. You lean into his shoulder, holding him like your life depends on it before you’re forced to let him go. “Now, get off the bed.” He orders. You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together and act brave. If Frankie says it would be okay, than it would be.

You wipe your face on your sleeve and stand. Frankie flips the mattress, revealing a switchblade hidden between the mattress and box spring. Your eyes widened.

“Frankie?” Your voice was small and shaky.

“I’m getting us the Hell out of here.” He says, looking back at you, eyes filled with resolve.

“Wha-” Before you have the chance to ask, he’s flung open the door, switchblade out. Your mother looks on horror as he digs the knife deep into his own arm.

—

You hold Frankie’s free hand as you watch the paramedics place the bandage on his freshly stitched arm. You sob quietly, and he squeezes your hand tighter and stares into the kitchen, silently assuring you it’s alright. You hear your mother’s voice as she argues with the officers, but you don’t look at her, never taking your eyes off Frankie.

Now that your brother was all patched up, an officer approaches you to speak.

“So, you’re sticking to your story: She attacked you with a knife.” The officer asks Frankie, clearly not convinced.

“Yup.” Frankie replies, not looking up at the officer.

“And you y/b/n? You saw this too?” The officer asked you. Frankie finally glances away from your mother to give you a stern look. You’re scared to lie to the police, but if Frankie is saying it, you know you should too.

“Yeah, that’s what happened.” You confirm. Frankie smiles at you, giving your hand another squeeze under the table where the officer can’t see, before turning back to stare at your mother. The officer sighs, sitting down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen kids. If we take her away the state is gonna put you two in a juvenal home until Frankie’s 18. Is that what you want?” She asks. The silence stretches on, you look over at Frankie.

You’ll do whatever Frankie thinks is best. Frankie always knows the right thing to do.

—

“I’m gonna give you a moment with your kids, so behave yourself.” The officer says, dragging your mother out in handcuffs to sit next to you as you huddled next to Frankie on the couch. As soon as the three of you are alone, she starts in on the two of you.

“Come on, why are you two doing this? I’m your mother!” She pleads.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Frankie says, shooting up, pulling you up along with him. You clung to his side, your hand in his as he glares daggers at your mother. “We wanted a mom, but you only care about yourself and all of your stupid boyfriends!”

“Listen to me–” She begs.

“No you listen to me okay? We’re not gonna see you, we’re not gonna answer to you. You’re just gonna leave us alone, Deanna.” The ice in his voice when he said your mother’s name sent a chill down your spine. He turns, leading you away towards his room.

“Kids?” Your mother’s voice had never sounded so small. Frankie stopped, turning to look at her. “Fine. Do what you want.” She said, voice void of emotion. The two of you looked at her, sitting there handcuffed on the couch, and you realize it may be the last time you ever see her.

You didn’t want to feel sad–you shouldn’t feel sad, she didn’t deserve that–but a part of you did. You couldn’t help it. Frankie would say it too later, you just wanted her to love you, and no matter how much that never happened, there was always some stupid small part of you that still tried to love her. She was the worst part of your life and she didn’t deserve any of your love, not even the sliver she got; but something in your biology was still there telling you to reach out to her now despite everything she’d done.

Of course, you knew better than that.

Because no matter what had happened, the only person who had always been there for you was Frankie. Your brother was the only person on the planet you truly cared about, and who actually gave a damn about you. He was the only person you could trust. You were young, but you learned early you can’t trust anyone in this world. And you didn’t. Except Frankie.

Frankie would make a promise that day to look out for you no matter what. It’s something he’d always done anyway; he was your big brother, and growing up the way you did he felt it was his job to take care if you. You knew he felt guilty, because he hadn’t always been always been able to protect you from your mom or her boyfriend’s. But things were about to change, and for better or worse he wanted you to know he’d keep you safe, regardless of where the two of you might end up.

But it was always the two of you against the world together, so you promised to look out for him too. You were a team: you would take care of each other, until the bitter end.

—

1981

You sat in the small diner booth, back to the wall with you legs drapped over Nikki’s lap as you held his chin firmly in one hand. Turning Nikki’s face towards you, you use your free hand to dab a napkin under his bloody nose.

“Ow, fuck y/n!” He whines, trying to pull his head away. You smirk.

“Stop being such a fucking baby Nikki.” You laugh.

“Hey that was badass dude.” A tall, lanky boy in leopard print pants comes up to you, looking at Nikki like an excited puppy. You let go of Nikki’s chin and the two of you give the boy matching stares. “The show not the nose, but that was pretty badass too.” He adds with a wide smile.

“The singer’s an asshole.” Nikki says taking the napkin from your hand to put under his nose.

“That’s the understatement of the century.” You scoff.

“I know I saw, but hey fuck him he deserved it.” The guy says, eager to agree with Nikki. He must be a fan. You think. “I got your poster on my bedroom wall.” The boy blurts out, almost as if spurred on by your last thought.

You instantly start cracking up, throwing your arms around Nikki’s shoulders as you laugh.

“Oh Nikki,” You say as you cackle, “Looks like you’ve got a fan.”

The boy’s cheeks flush bright pink under his chestnut locks.

“I can’t believe I just said that.” He mumbles to himself as he looks away from you. You almost felt mean teasing the older boy; he seemed sweet, if not a little dumb. But he looked like he could handle it. I mean, if he’s walking around wearing those pants surely he can handle some criticism.

“Take the fucking poster down man, London’s over.” Nikki said, not in the mood for your games.

“Anything else I can get you?” Dottie asks.

“Could you get me a Jack and coke?” Nikki asks with a smike, knowing full well that’s not on the menu.

“I’ll have french toast please Dottie, thank you.” You say leaning back in the booth as you smile up at her.

“And for you hun?” She asks the guy who’s made himself comfortable sitting across from you at the other side of the booth.

“Blueberry pancakes, please.” He asks her politely.

“My new band is gonna be something no one has ever fucking seen before.” Nikki says, looking through ads in the Recycler.

“Oh, that one looks fun!” You say, pointing to one with a smirk.

Loud rude aggressive lead guitarist sks working band. Xlnt equip, record credit and vocal ability- Call Mick. 555-0121  
Nikki circles the ad in red marker.

“Yeah, that dude looks pretty cool.” The new guy agrees, pointing with his drumstick.

“Do you carry those with you everywhere?” Nikki asks, looking at the drumstick.

“Yeah!” He answers enthusiastically, spinning the drumstick around in his fingers.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” I ask, watching him twirl the drumstick with ease in his long, nimble fingers. He stops.

“High School marching band.” He says, looking down; clearly embarrassed by his answer. He quickly looks back up. “But hey, I rock too!” Just then, Dottie comes up with Nikki’s Jack and coke.

“Thank you Dottie.” Nikki says sweetly.

“Only for you.” She replies with a wink. I take the coke as Nikki goes straight for the mini bottle of Jack Daniels. He opens the lid and shoots the whole thing in one go, staring the new guy down.

“Wow.” He says, watching Nikki shoot the Jack Daniels. Nikki watches the guy spin his drumstick, a smirk spreads across his face. Oh, I know that look.

“What’s your name?” Nikki ask.

“Tommy. Tommy Bass.” He says, sticking out his hand to Nikki. I surpress a laugh as Nikki stares at his outstretched hand. He finally decided to takes Tommy’s hand, shaking it firmly.

“Nikki Sixx.” He introduces himself, though it’s obvious Tommy already knows who he is. “And this is my little sister, y/n Sixx.” He says, tilting his he in my direction.

“Hey.” I smile at him.

“Wait, she’s your sister? I thought she was, uh-” He stammers.

“Gross, get your mind right Bass.” You say, rolling your eyes and throwing a handful of sugar packets at him. “Might want to work on that name by the way; doesn’t exactly scream Rock and Roll, does it?” You add, taking a long drink from your coke.

“Fuck you’re mean.” He says with a laugh. “Is she always this mean?”

“Yes.” Nikki replies, smirking.

“It’s been brought to my attention.” You shrug. “Personally I don’t see the problem.” Nikki scoffs.

“You wouldn’t.” He jokes, and you respond by punching his bicep. He laughs, because of course it didn’t hurt him, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Anyway Tommy, you say you can rock?” Nikki asks, looking back at the drummer.

“Yeah man!” The tall boy perks up, spinning the stick in his fingers so fast you think it might take off.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do?” Nikki asks.

“What, like an audition?” Tommy asks, eyes gleaming.

“Tomorrow, our place. You bring your kit. Show me what you got and maybe I’ll let you be my drummer; sound good?” He offers.

“Hell yeah dude!” Tommy exclaims. “Oh dude you are not gonna regret this, I promise!”

“Uh huh.” Nikki says, rolling his eyes at Tommy’s youthful enthusiasm.

Dottie brings your food over and you and Tommy dig in, you splitting your french toast with Nikkie. The rest of the night spend talking between the three of you about details for the band Nikki invisioned. Tommy hung on every word, and you couldn’t help but be curious about him. He was goofy and sweet, and he was just as taken with Nikki’s scheming and dreaming as you were. You had never really cared who Nikki was in a band with before, but you found yourself almost rooting for him to do well at his audition the next day.

That was new.

You had never really cared much one way or another for Nikki’s bandmates. They were all disposable in your mind. Just extra bodies that existed in a void, walking in and out of your life just like everyone else did. The only people that really mattered in the world were you and Nikki. That was the only constant truth. The idea that you might ever trust anyone else, might ever have other people you really, truly cared for, had never occurred to you. You didn’t have friends, you didn’t have have a family; you had Nikki, and that was all. That’s how it had always been since the day you were born, and that’s how it always would be. That’s what you’d always thought.

But you were wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

1981

You groan, rolling your eyes as you throw your head back against the armrest of the couch in obvious distaste as the new guitarist yet again fails to do the riff that Nikki showed him. The blonde boy shoots you a nasty glare, and you blow a bubble with your gum, side-eyeing him through your lashes. The boys start up again, and you see Nikki watching the boy with annoyance.

Here it comes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Nikki says, stopping the music. You allow yourself a self-satisfied smirk. “What the fuck, dude? That’s not what I showed you.” Nikki says, turning to the guitarist. What the hell was this guys name again? You think, realizing you’d forgotten already. Oh well, doesn’t matter; he’s not gonna last long.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever played before man.” He whines. You let out a giggle from your place lounging on the sofa, smiling as the guy sends you another quick glare.

What a fucking baby.

“That’s the fucking point, man.” Nikki replies. “Let’s take a break.”

“Well, I–” He starts, but Nikki cuts him off.

“Tommy, y/n, outside.” Nikki orders. You throw yourself off the couch with a small hop.

“Wait, why does she–” He asks.

“It’s all good man.” Tommy says as he runs after Nikki, an unlit cigarette hanging off his lips.

As if dragging Nikki’s band down wasn’t bad enough, this guy was getting on your nerves with all the fucking glaring, so you decided to rub it in a little. You slow as you go to follow Tommy, shooting the guitarist a smug smirk. He glares, snarling at you as you wave your fingers sarcastically, walking out the door to leave him standing alone in the apartment.

This wasn’t totally unusual. You didn’t really care much one way or another who Nikki played with in his bands. If they were talented enough to play with him that was usually good enough for you. So if you had one like this guy, someone whose skill level clearly didn’t stack up, you usually had a problem with them just on principle.

Then there was his personality. Again, usually you didn’t care about the kind of guys Nikki played with, just so long as they were good at what they did. You had never really gotten along with most of the guys Nikki had been in bands with before, simply because once Nikki had made it clear you were off-limits and the most they could ever expect out of you was friendship; your personality would do a pretty good job scaring them off. You weren’t exactly what most people would consider ‘nice’ after all.

But that was fine with you, you didn’t need to be friends with them. As long as they did their jobs and helped Nikki achieve his dreams, that’s all that mattered. Occasionally though, you’d run into shitstains like this guy. Whiners who wanted to make excuses for why they couldn’t do shit. Who wanted to blame their shortcomings on everyone and everything but themselves. Even if he had been talented, and he wasn’t, you still wouldn’t want him in Nikki’s band. He wasn’t a good person to have tied to Nikki’s career.

You had to protect Nikki from people who would try to leech off his talent. You promised you’d protect him, and this was one of the few ways you were able to do that.

“He’s a rhythm guy, man. We’ll sound better when we find a lead.” Tommy says as you walk out.

“You should dump him.” You say bluntly, lighting your cigarette and taking a drag as you come to step in between them.

“What? No, listen I just–” Tommy starts, but you hold up your hand to silence him.

“He’s a fucking wuss, and you should dump him now before things get serious.” You say, ashing your cigarette and looking up at Nikki. Chewing on his lip, he looks down at you. Before he gets the chance to respond, a shitty tan car blaring rock music stops in front of your building.

“Holy shit.” Nikki says, looking down as a pale man with jet black hair gets out of the driver’s seat.

“Check this dude out.” Tommy smiles, watching the man, before quickly running down the stairs to help him with his equipment.

That was one thing you appreciated about Tommy, he was always willing to help others; even when they were complete strangers. You and Nikki just stood and watched, suspicion ingrained in you after years of living rough. Tommy lived too sheltered a life to ever be suspicious of anyone–or maybe he was just dumb.

Even this strange, older guy wearing a t-shirt that read ‘FREAKS’ was someone Tommy felt totally comfortable just casually walking up to and offering help. That was just how Tommy was. He was genuinely just a selfless person, he didn’t have it in him to be cautious or selfish or cruel. He was like a little kid in that way.

You smiled; yeah, Tommy was definitely dumb.

—

“So you think you got it?” Nikki asks, looking over at Mick.

“Just fucking play it” The older man, Mick, replies.

You sit back at your place on the couch, watching them. They start again, and you can instantly see Mick is good. Very good. He has no problem playing the riff that Nikki had just shown him. He eyes the sad sack as they go, picking up on the same weakness that you had. Mick hits his guitar petal, starting in on a sweet solo. You smile, leaning into the music.

Oh yeah, he’s got talent.

“Whoa whoa hold up! Hey, you mind turning down a little bit old timer? I can’t hear myself.” The annoying little twirp cuts Mick off. You look over at Nikki as Mick moves over to your brother.

“Fucking hippie ain’t gonna make it.” He says bluntly. You smirk. Oh, you like this one.  
“So tell him.” Nikki replies, raising his eyebrows. You smirk. Mick sighs, walking over to the boy.

“Listen to me. There’s only room for one guitar player in this band and that’s me so why don’t you pack up your toys and go home.” He says bluntly. God you wish you had some popcorn for this show.

“Okay, I was here first alright? Tommy tell him.” The hippie replies, looking to the drummer for support. Tommy purposely fumbles a drumstick, bending over to pick it up to actively avoiding the guy’s gaze.

“Nikki come on.” Nikki just shrugs. “Really? You’re gonna listen to this old dude over me? Then fuck you guys man!” He yells, yanking his guitar’s cord from the amp. He makes his way toward the door. “And your shitty fucking band!” He says, breaking into tears as he slams the door.

You burst into a fit of laughter on the couch as soon as he’s gone. Tommy immediately joins in.

“Fuck I hated that guy!” You laugh, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. Nikki smirks at you.

“You knew him for a fucking day y/n, how’d you hate him that much already?” He asks, coming over to shove your side gently with his foot.

“I’m a very hateful person.” You smile up at him.

“Don’t I know it.” Nikki smirks at you as he moves back over to the boys.

“So how old are you Mick?” Tommy asks out of genuine curiosity.

“Fuck you, you fucking teenage.” Mick replies, sending you into another fit of laughter.

“Fuck Nikki, this guy’s great!” Pulling your knees up to your chest as you laugh. “He’s a fucking riot!”

“I’m so glad you’re amused y/n!” Tommy says, annoyed.

“Oh, I am Tommy, believe me.” You smirk. You can see the corner of Mick’s mouth curve up slightly.

“Oh what, so you like this guy then? Where’d all that hate talk go y/n?” Nikki jokes, handing you a beer before grabbing one for himself.

“We’re kindred spirits Nikki; both hateful. Two negatives make a positive after all.” You reply sarcastically, shooting Mick a quick wink. You think you see a slight color rise in his pale cheeks, but he quickly takes a swig of beer to mask it.

“Don’t act like you know shit y/n; science was your worst subject.” Nikki teases, sitting on the arm of the couch as you lay sprawled across it.

“And biology was yours; but somehow girls keep falling for your same tired lines, and then they always leave disappointed.” You joke, laughing as you roll off the couch just in time to avoid Nikki’s jab to the gut.

“You little shit, come here!” He yells, grabbing for you as you nimbly dodge out of the way. You laugh, ducking behind Tommy as he leans against Mick’s amp.

“Oh no, I’m not saving you! You’ve been nothing but mean to me since we met!” He gripes.

“Aw, come on!” You say sweetly, batting your eyelashes. “Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope!” You quote, smiling up at him. He looks down at you and groans.

“Ugh, fine.” He replies, standing up straight and putting himself between you and Nikki.

“Sucker.” Mick says. You smirk over at Mick, lifting your hand. He shacks he head, a small smile on his face, before returning your high five.

Nikki and Tommy wrestle in the living room for awhile, while you and Mick talk about this and that. Eventually the four of you all end up hanging out, drinking and talking about the band. Now that you had your drummer and guitarist, all that was left was a singer. You narrowed it down to, as Mick eloquently put it, ‘a skinny blonde fucker with moves.’ Turns out Tommy knew someone that just happened to fit the bill, so you all planned to pay him a visit tomorrow.

—

Ugh, the valley.

You hated it here. Stuck up, rich, preppie bastards. The four of you, dressed in black and leather, stood out amoung the crowds of hippie rich kids. Nikki was quick to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels as soon as he saw it, one you quickly steel for yourself as soon as Nikki gets a swig from it.

You watch Tommy as he smiles, greeting people he knows as he passes. Of course he knows these people, this is the sort of life he lived before he met us. You think absently, taking another long drink of Jack before Nikki takes the bottle back from you. You knew Tommy’s life was different from yours; not so fucked up, a real family, maybe some money, but you hadn’t realized just how picture perfect it might have been. If the people he went to school with were hanging out in places like this…

“A fucking cover band?” Mick says, pulling you from your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized you’d made it to your objective.

You stood behind a crowd, mostly girls in swimsuits, who danced in front of a small stage where a band was performing ‘My Kind of Lover’ by Billy Squier.

“Yeah, but I’m telling you I went to high school with this dude.” Tommy assures you. The group of you all look back at the band. “Okay, that is exactly who we need.” He says, leaning on Nikki’s shoulder as he points to the pretty blonde guy singing on stage.

The four of you move over to the drink table, getting more than a fair share of looks from the preppies around you, as you watch the show on stage.

“Voice ain’t bad.” Mick remarks. Given what you’d observed from Mick thus far, that was the closest you’d ever heard him come to actually complimenting someone.

“I don’t care if he can sing or not; look what he’s doing to those chicks!” Nikki replies, commenting on the absolute feverish revelry the girls at the front of the stage were currently experiencing. You roll your eyes. Nikki noticed. “What, you don’t approve?” He smirks.

“No, he’s fine. I just don’t get what they’re all so worked up about.” You shrug.

“What, pretty valley boys not your type?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Guess not.” You say, looking up at him with a smirk as you snatch the bottle of Jack from his hand and take another drink.

“Good. It’s bad enough thinking about you ending up with any of these preppie bastards, but if this dude joins up I need to know you two will keep to the rules.” He says sternly, referring of course to his rule about no fraternizing between you and his bandmates. In Nikki’s mind, it was both for your own protection as his little sister, and, more practically, to keep any unnecessary drama out of his band.

“Sir yes sir.” You reply, giving him a sarcastic salute.

The song ended to a group of screaming girls.

“Thank you we’re Rock Candy!” The blonde says, giving a million dollar smile to his small crowd of screaming fans.

“Shitty name.” Mick comments, making you laugh. Tommy claps for his friend as he descends off the stages into a hoard of females.

“He’s fucking perfect man.” Tommy says enthusiastically.

“He’s pretty good. Got moves.” Nikki concedes.

“But can he sing your songs Nikki?” You ask as Tommy walks over to talk to the blonde. Nikki looks back at you, taking the bottle of Jack from your hand and taking a drink.

You watched Tommy talked the the blonde, again reminded of how very different the two of you really were. Just because you lived together now, and spent time together, it didn’t make you the same. You looked around the pool party, at the judgemental faces of the rich, preppie kids that surrounded you; looks you were all too familiar with. This was the world he grew up in; he might like to play in yours, but he would never really understand it. He would never really understand you.

Why did that bother you?

You grab the bottle back from Nikki, throwing your head back as you take a long drink.

“You okay?” Nikki asks, looking at you with concern.

“I just can’t wait to leave.” You respond, wiping your mouth with your arm.

“Tell me about it.” Nikki replies, eyeing the crowd as they stare at your group.

“Fucking hippies.” Mick agrees. You smirk, handing him the bottle.

“I think he’s in.” Tommy says, excited as he walks back up to the three of you.

“Good, now can we get the fuck out of here please?” You don’t wait for answer, already making a B-line for the exit, the boys right on your heels.

You wanted to go back to your apartment. The apartment you shared with Nikki, and Tommy, and now Mick. The one where you were all the same and you didn’t have to think about where you all came from, you could just focus on where you were going.

Straight to the top.


	3. Chapter 3

1981

“Tommy, your boy’s here!” Nikki shouts as you peer through the blinds to get a better look, Mick coming over to do the same. The blonde singer, Vince? Is that what Tommy said his name was?

Whatever.

Vince gets out of the passenger side of a red sports car, a pretty blonde girl in a white sleeveless jumpsuit getting out on the driver’s side. Oh she should not be wearing all white in here. You think to yourself absently.

“Who’s the chick?” Nikki asks as Tommy comes to stand above you to peak out the wind.

“Which one?” Mick retorts. You snort, throwing up a fist, which Mick lightly bumps with his own.

—

“Hey.” Nikki greats the blonde as he opens the door. She stalks past him, saying nothing as she eyes the apartment with obvious distaste. Bitch. You think, keeping your thoughts to yourself as you glare at her from your seat on the couch.

Nikki greets Vince, who seems friendlier than his girlfriend, introducing himself. Vince exchanges an enthusiastic high-five with Tommy, followed by a quick introduction with Mick. They quickly work on setting up the song for Vince to sing, all while the blonde girl is standing in front of you, eyeing the boys with contempt.

“What’s up babe?” Vince asks her in a low voice.

“I’m just trying to make sure these guys are good enough to play with you baby.” She replies. The boys all look at each other, not saying anything; but you do.

“Excuse me?” You say, standing up to get in her face.

“Who the fuck are you?” She asks, crinkling her nose as she looks at you.

“Who the fuck are you?” You retort. “You stuck-up valley b–”

“Y/N.” Nikki cuts you off, the tone in his voice stern. You look over at him, then back at the older blonde girl in front of you. You clench your jaw, and sit back down on the end of the couch.

Mick starts playing, and the rest of the boys join in. The girl sits down on the opposite end of the couch, neither of you looking at each other. Vince starts singing, and it doesn’t sound bad. It could use some fine-tuning, but with a little work–

“This isn’t right! This isn’t right!” The blonde is up off the couch, yelling at the boys. Nikki stops the band as they look back over at her.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

“Sorry what?” Nikki asks her, clearly getting pissed.

“This music’s way too heavy baby.” She tells Vince. You see Tommy snort behind his drumset, though he tries to hide is behind his hand.

“Thank you.” Nikki replies sarcastically. That gets a laugh out of you, earning a side-eyed glare from the blonde. The boys quickly discuss a few changes to the music, before Nikki points to Vince’s girlfriend. “And muzzle that.”

“Hey fuck you asshole!” She shouts at Nikki as the bands starts playing again. You’re laughing your ass off, the rest of her yelling drowned out by Mick’s guitar.

With the changes, this version of the song sounded better. Much better. And it was only there second attempt. Even blondie could tell it was good, her eyes going wide as she stared at the boys from her side of the couch. You smirked, a swell of pride taking over you knowing that this stuck-up chick was realizing what you already knew. She had doubted their abilities before, but Nikki’s band was the real deal, and soon everyone would see it; not just this rich valley girl.

—

“Tommy, if you burn our apartment down I swear to God I’ll fucking haunt your ass for the rest of your life.” You say as you watch him roast roaches with hairspray and a lighter.

“If he burns our apartment down he’ll be fucking dead too y/n.” Nikki replies, taking a drink from his beer. “If he doesn’t die in the fire I’ll kill him myself! You know how hard it was to find rent this cheap so close to the strip?”

“Explains all the fucking roaches.” Vince whispers in your ear. You throw your head back, laughing.

“Excuse me for not having a rich girlfriend to mooch off of.” Nikki retorts.

“Yeah, only cause rich girls are too scared to date you.” You smirk. Tommy’s shoulder bumping yours as he laughs.

“Tch, whatever.” Nikki takes another drink from his beer. “Anyway, like I was saying. If we wanna knock people on their asses then we gotta give them a show. The punks they’re doing the minimalist thing; let’s take it in the exact opposite direction. I’m talking a stadium show in the clubs man. Like costumes and lights and–”

“Pyro! Flames and shit! Explosions!” Tommy says, illustrating his point by creating more flames with the hairspray and lighter.

“The fuck did I just say Tommy?” You say shoving him away from you, though you couldn’t hide your smile.

“It’s a fucking war out there and the only way we win is by showing these kids something they’ve never seen before.” Nikki says, leaning in.

“So what do we call this thing?” Vince asks, leaning back on the couch. Nikki starts shuffling through his notebook, looking for something.

“You know it’s all about being fucking larger than life.” He says, holding up a page with a large red pentagram drawn on it. The word ‘XMASS’ was written below.

“X Mass?” Vince read aloud, his tone suggesting he clearly wasn’t convinced. Nikki nods.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, I think it’s a 1.9.” Mick comments in his usual deadpan tone. Tommy laughs through his nose, and you throw your hand up, doing your best to hid your laughter as you lean into Tommy’s side, head resting on his shoulder. You tried not to laugh at any of Nikki’s ideas, even the bad ones, only ever giving constructive criticism, but Mick’s comment and Tommy’s laughter was making it harder to hold it in.

“It’s a play on Christmas you know you could use all the Christ imagery and shit it’ll piss people off and make people think, you know?” Nikki looks over at you and Tommy, and you both just shrug. “It’s got shock value.” Nikki says, clearly deflated. Vince shacks his head.

“I’m shocked by how much it blows.” Mick quips. Tommy and Vince start cracking up, and you can’t help but laugh right along with them.

“Alright then assholes you give it a shot, but fucking make it big!” Nikki says, throwing the notebook down on the coffee table. Tommy snatches the book and a pen from the dirty table, hunching over as he sets to work on his idea. He giggles to himself as he goes. You lean against him, looking down the paper on his knees, and roll your eyes. Classic Tommy intellect at work. You think, leaning back against the couch with a smirk.

“Whatta ya got Tommy?” Nikki asks, glancing over at your amused expression before looking to the drummer.

Tommy flips the notebook around, showing off his masterpiece. A poorly drawn penis with hairy balls and the words ‘The fourskins’ written in shitty handwriting above it. The boys all laugh, Mick shaking his head at the boy. You weren’t sure if Tommy’s misspelling of ‘foreskins’ was supposed to be a clever play on the number of band members, or if Tommy was just bad at spelling, and you honestly didn’t know which answer would be funnier.

“The Fourskins? Really Tommy?” Nikki asks, obviously not buying it.

“Yeah! ‘Cause we’re gonna fuck the audience in the face every night dude!” His replies, his usual level of excitement evident on his smiling face.

“Your logic is astounding.” You comment sarcastically as you lean back on the couch. Tommy shoots a glare over his shoulder at you. You answer with a smirk.

“Come on; could you see that shit on the marquee above the Forum?” Nikki asks, laughing.

“Okay you’re right. I’m out.” Tommy says, giving up rather easily and leaning back next to you.

“Come on Mick you gotta do better then that.” Nikki says, looking over at the guitarist as he writes something on the notebook. You all look at him expectantly as he turns the page around. On the paper were the words 'Motley Crew.’

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this day.” He says.

“All right.” Nikki says, taking the notebook from Mick. He uses the marker to make a couple quick changes.

Mötley Crüe

“Aw, that’s sick dude!” Tommy says, beaming as he pushing into you and Vince, the two of you smiling back at Nikki.

“Yeah.” Vince agrees.

“I like it.” You chime in, standing up. “It’s a lot better than 'the fourskins’ anyway.” The boys all laugh; all except Tommy, who glares up at you. You ruffle his shaggy, chestnut hair as you walk past him, heading toward your room.

You close the door behind you, heading towards your closet. You throw off your clothes and toss them to the side, then pull the tan, pressed waitress dress from its hanger and slip it on over your head. You check your appearance in the mirror, making sure your hair and makeup still look alright and there are no obvious stains on the dress, before grabbing your leather jacket and heading back out into the living room.

“Okay boys, see you later.” You say, threading your arms through the jacket.

“Where’re you going so late, huh?” Vince asks, taking a drink of beer.

“What, can’t you tell?” You ask, gesturing to your outfit. “Obviously I’m heading out for a late-night trist.” The boys laugh.

“Wait, you’re going to work now?” Tommy asks. “But it’s the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, it’s called third shift Tommy.” You say, heading towards the door. “Somebody’s gotta make sure the drunks and the druggies get there post-party breakfast food.”

“Hold on, I’ll walk you.” Nikki says, moving to stand

“I’ll be fine Nikki, it’s just down the street. You stay and talk shop with the band.” You say, waving your hand dismissively.

“I’ll go with you.” Tommy offers. You look over at him, surprised.

“You don’t have to–”

“It’s no big deal dude.” He says, jumping up. He grabs his jacket and meets you at the door. “Let’s go.”

—

You walk quietly next to Tommy as you make your way towards Donny’s. You aren’t really sure why he offered to walk you, other than perhaps his usual go-getter, helpful attitude.

He, like most people, didn’t seem all the fond of you. After all, you did tease him more than the other two, but he just made it so easy. For once in your life you really didn’t mean any harm by it; if anything you actually kind of liked Tommy. He was sweet, almost innocent in his always happy, easily excitable manner. He was an easy person to get along with.

You had never really met anyone like Tommy before, so effortlessly happy. So easily kind. It wasn’t something you were used to. More and more you felt drawn to his natural magnetism; pulled into his orbit. You found yourself actually wanting to be friends with him. He was just too damn likeable, and he vexed you like no one else had before.

“So…you work thirds a lot?” Tommy asks, looking over at you as you stuff your hands in your jacket pockets. You glance up at him. He was clearly just asking to try and fill the silence. You smile to yourself. That’s kind of cute.

“Sometimes. Usually I work during the day, but I pick up shifts here and there to make some extra cash; drunks tip better.” You say with a smirk.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.” He says with a laugh.

“Mostly it depends on Nikki’s show schedule though; obviously I can’t work thirds if Nikki has a gig.” You add absently.

“What, so you never miss one of your brother’s shows?” Tommy asks, clearly surprised.

“Of course not.” You answer like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I would never miss a chance to see Nikki’s band play.”

“My sister didn’t come to my shows when I was in Suite 19.” Tommy thought. “I don’t think she’d come to our show now if I asked either.”

“Well it’s different for Nikki and me. We’re different.” You say, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets.

“What’s that mean?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s it matter to you? God you’re so fucking nosy.” You snap, shrugging deeper into your jacket.

“Fuck I was just asking. Jesus you’re always like this!” He scowls. “I just think it’s cool that you’re always trying to support Nikki and the band, that’s all. You don’t have to bite my fucking head off.”

Why was it so hard to tell him the truth? To just open up? Were you just too embarrassed to admit it to him? Too afraid he’d judge you for the life you’d lived? What if he knew the difference between the two of you? Would he think less of you? Did you care?

The truth was, while his sister she had a brother and parents who loved and supported her, all you ever had was Nikki. All your life you’d been a burden on your brother. As a child he’d had to watch, feeling helpless as your mom’s boyfriends beat you, and when you finally gotten free from that he felt like he had to step up and take care of you. And he did. In the foster system he’d looked out for you. Defended you. Then, when the two of you ended up on the street he’d done the same, often going hungry just so you could eat. He’d protected you from the world.

Nikki gave up so much for you, how could you do any less for him now? How could you not work your hardest to make sure his dreams became a reality? How could you not support him every step of the way, just like he support you your whole life?

“Tch, whatever.” You scoff, looking away.

You walk in silence the rest of the way. When you reach Donny’s, you look inside and see it’s dead; just a few regulars and one drunk sitting at the bar. You’re about to head in, hand already on the door, when you stop. You groan, head falling back limply.

“You wanna come inside?” You ask, looking back at Tommy. “I’ll have the cook make you some pancakes–blueberry, right?” He looks down at you, eyes wide. A smile spreads across his face.

“Hell yeah!” He says, following you into the diner.

“If you’re a pain in the ass I’m kicking you out.” You say, the door swinging shut behind the two of you.


	4. Chapter 4

1981

You give yourself a final once-over in the mirror, smirking at your reflection as you turn to admire your handy work. Your hair was perfectly styled, your eyes lined, dark and intense, and your lips were blood red as they smirked back at you. You’d chosen a leather mini-skirt worn over a leopard-print one-piece, topped off with your leather jacket, along with your black, platform boots. You would match the boys quite nicely tonight.

You’d made sure you were good to go so you had plenty of time to help the boys get ready when you got to the venue. For the most part it was just their hair; Nikki wanted it to be big, but none of them really knew what they were doing, so you promised you would help them out. Nikki and Mick already knew how to do eyeliner, and Vince had seen girls do it enough times he understood how it was done. Tommy was the only one who really needed help in that department; confused and concerned by the idea of poking a pencil into his eyeball.

“Y/N, we’re almost ready to go.” Nikki calls out from the other room.

“‘kay!” You call back.

“And don’t forget to grab those boots!” He reminds you. You roll your eyes, grabbing your jacket and the bright red leather boots you already had set aside. Nikki was borrowing them from you for the show.

You head out, boots and jacket draped over one arm. The boys are gathered in the living room; all except Vince who said he would meet you there after leaving his girlfriend’s. Mick is relaxing in the recliner, while Tommy and Nikki are sitting on the couch, going over the setlist. Mick looks over at you, his eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

“You look good, little Sixx.” He comments, using his new nickname for you. You smile.

“Thanks Mick.” Tommy looks up, his eyes going wide as dinner plates as he looks you over.

“Damn y/n! You look hot as hell!” Tommy shouts, grinning up at you. You roll your eyes as Nikki shoves Tommy’s head down towards the couch.

“Classy as always drummer.” Mick comments.

“Watch it man! That’s my fucking sister, remember?” Nikki chides, glaring at Tommy as the drummer laughs and pushing Nikki’s hand away.

“Yeah yeah man I know! I’m not into her–she’s way too fucking mean!” He jokes. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s hot.” He laughs as he jumps up to avoid Nikki’s fist.

“It’s fine Nikki.” You say, stepping between them. “He’s not my type either.” You look up at Tommy, smirking. You grab his chin, turn his face and give him a quick peak on the cheek. “Sure he’s cute, but he’s just so damn stupid.” You say with a smile, giving his cheek a light smack over the lipstick mark you’d left. The boys all laugh, even Tommy.

You and Tommy had developed into a relationship of light ripping. He constantly called you mean, and in turn you acted the part; calling him stupid or just in general living up to your usual level of bitchiness. But unlike with other people, where your attitude was meant to distance people from you, with Tommy it had shifted, changing into something more like what you had with Nikki. It was sarcastic and playful; not meant to hurt or put him down.

Once Tommy realized you weren’t being serious, he began to play along. He started insulting you back, dishing out just as much as he got. That surprised you at first, but you had to admit; it was actually kind of fun. Tommy enjoy it too, and now you seemed to pester each other all the time. It was nice to have someone to bother other than Nikki, and once Tommy started Vince had gotten in on it too, though he wasn’t quite as fun to mess with as Tommy. You didn’t have to tease Mick to get along with him; the two of you just had a natural connection with one another.

You’d never really had friends other than Nikki before. It was weird to think you’d suddenly gained three all at once. It really felt more like having three brothers than having friends, but then again you really only had Nikki to compare them to; and the three of them all just reminded you of Nikki in your mind. Not in how they acted, so much as how you felt about them. You didn’t really understand why; it wasn’t really something you could explain if you tried.

“Here, you better not scuff them up.” You say, tossing the boots at Nikki. They fall at Nikki’s feet, and he quickly moves to put them on.

“Yeah yeah, quit nagging. They’ll be fine.” He says, stuffing his feet into them. They weren’t really his size, but they would have to do until he got boots of his own. You didn’t envy how sore his feet would be at the end of the night; hopeful the show would go well and he’d party hard enough he’d be too happy and drunk to feel it.

“Those look gnarly dude.” Tommy says, looking over at Nikki as he stands. “We’re gonna look sick tonight!” He smiles at you as you look him over.

His black tank top barely skims the top of his two-toned black and white leather pants, and every time he’d lift his arm to spin his drumstick it’d show off a little of the smooth, firm skin of his abdomen. Looking at his pants, you laugh to yourself, wondering how he even found a pair that tall and skinny.

“Speaking of, we’d better get going if you guys want me to doll you up before the show.” You say, pulling your jacket on over your shoulders.

—

You spray Nikki’s hair over with a quick shot of hairspray, careful not to douse him with too much. You look him over, the top of his hair teased and spiked out.

“That big enough?” You ask, adjusting one last piece into place.

“Yeah, looks good.” He says. “Thanks y/n.” He adds, looking up at you in the mirror. You smile back at him.

“No problem. Now scoot; it’s Tommy’s turn.” You say, nudging his shoulders until he stands. Nikki sits down to have a drink with Mick, and Tommy plops down in the chair in front of you, tapping his hands on top of his legs, which are bouncing a mile a minute. You place your hands firmly on his shoulders. “Stop moving around or I’ll rip your hair out!”

“Oh, sorry dude.” He replies, smiling at you in the mirror as he sits still. “I’m just so excited! It’s our first show!” You laugh, grabbing his hair as you get to work.

“I know it’s exciting, but you need to chill out or you’ll be performing with a bald spot.” You couldn’t believe how soft his hair was; it was softer than Nikki’s, who had been dying his black for years now. Tommy probably didn’t do much of anything to his hair; didn’t blow dry it, didn’t dye it, didn’t style it. He just let it be. You tried to be gentle with it, tried not to damage it too much as you parted it at the crown, leaving out his bangs, and started backcombing it up like a beehive in the back.

“Aw man, that looks so cool!” He says, watching you work. “You’re so good at this.” He compliments you, and you feel the heat rise up in your cheeks as you laugh awkwardly.

“It’s just hair Tommy, it’s not rocket science. Any idiot can style hair.” You say as you move around to the back of his head.

“I can’t do it.” He points out.

“No, that’s not–” You stop, sighing as you look at him in the mirror. “This isn’t what I meant.” You look at him for another second, before quickly moving back to continue your with your task. “I just meant that it’s not hard. It’s not like, a skill–like how you can play drums or something–so you don’t really need to praise me for doing it.” Tommy scowls, looking confused.

“That doesn’t make sense.” He says, after a moment if silence.

“What?” You ask, not taking your eyes off your task.

“I said that doesn’t make sense.” He repeats, more confidently this time.

“What doesn’t make sense?” You ask, stepping around the chair to look at his reflection in the mirror.

“Well, you did Mick’s hair, Nikki’s hair, your own, and now your doing mine; and we all look different.”

“So?”

“Wouldn’t you have to know a lot about how to style hair to do all that? You can’t just do hair once and suddenly be good enough to do all those different styles. You would have like, practice. Do it a lot?” He asks.

“Well, I mean yeah, I guess.” You look down as the dirty floorboards, kicking at an empty can of hairspray.

“Sounds like a skill to me.” He says. You look back up at him, frowning as he smiles at you in the mirror.

It was so stupid. Why couldn’t you just accept the compliment and move on? Why did Tommy have to get all sincere and make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t doing anything special. You couldn’t do anything to really support the band, as much as you wished you could. If all you could do was fix their hair and go to their shows, that’s what you would do.

Why did Tommy have to say nice things like that anyway? What kind of weirdo just said shit like that out loud where other people could hear it? Talking like you somehow did something worthwhile.

You scoffed.

As if.

“Yeah, yeah, okay Tommy I get it. Now shut that big mouth of yours or you’ll swallow hairspray.” You say, holding up a can of aquanet. Before he has a chance to argue, you’re already spraying his hair, forcing him to close his mouth.

“Okay, eyeliner.” You say, setting down the can of hairspray and grabbing the eyeliner off the cluttered counter. “This is gonna be awkward for a few minutes. Mick, you may want to hold Nikki’s hand to support him through this difficult time.” You say sarcastically.

“What?” Nikki looks over at you, eyebrow raised. You look at Tommy.

“Eyes up, and if I see a boner, I’m punching you in the dick.” You say in a low voice, before throwing your leg over Tommy’s, sitting lightly on his knees. Nikki nearly spits out a mouthful of Jack Daniels as Mick laughs next it him.

“The fuck y/n?” He yells. Tommy has gone a ghostly shade of white in shock.

“He’s too damn tall, this will be the easiest way to do it.” You say grabbing Tommy’s chin and moving his towards you to get a better angle. “Just shut up and drink your Jack Nikki, it’ll take five minutes tops.”

You start applying the eyeliner, looking into Tommy’s eyes as line them with the dark coal liner. He stares back at you, wide-eyed, as you stay focused on your task. He has such pretty, deep eyes, which are only accented by the liner.

“The fuck’s going on in here?” Vince asks, walking in. He smirks over at the two of you. “You two look cozy.”

“Shut the fuck up Neil, I’m concentrating.” You shoot back, your eyes not leave Tommy’s.

“Damn y/n, icy; especially when you look so fucking hot toni–”

“Don’t you start that shit too.” Nikki snapped.

“You’re all a bunch of pigs.” Mick comments, absently moving through different cords in his guitar.

“Thank you Mick.” You thank the guitarist. “At least one of you isn’t a total perv.”

“I’m not a perv!” Tommy shouts, offended.

“Dude, don’t move! I’ll mess up you’re eyeliner!” You snap.

“Sorry.” He replies sheepishly.

“There, finished.” You say, leaning back to look at your handy work. “I think tommorow I’ll show you how to do this by yourself, then you can practice and next show you can do your own eyeliner.”

“Y-yeah. Good idea.” He replies, blinking as he looks back at you.

“Cool.” You say, getting off him.

The boys finish up. Nikki adding a couple black swipes to his cheeks as Vince stretches out his new $800 leather pants, a gift from his girlfriend. Of course Blondie (you refused to learn her name) would shell out big for the most expensive shit possible; you and Nikki thrifted all your clothes.

“Well, I guess I’ll head out there.” You say, heading towards the door. “Good luck guys; you’re totally gonna kill it tonight!” You look back and stop. Nikki and Mick are smiling at you, but Vince and Tommy look at you like they’d just seen a ghost. “What?”

“Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be that nice before.” Vince says. You feel your cheeks burn hot.

“I can be fucking nice when I wanna be, asshole.” You snap, embarrassed.

“There, that sounds more like you.” Tommy says, smiling.

“Just shut up and play a great show, you pricks.” You feel your face flush as you walk out, lips set in a pout, hearing the boys laughing behind you.

—

You made your way to the edge of the stage, drink in hand. Legally, you weren’t supposed to be drinking; but you were with the band, and given the way the bartender was checking you out he probably only cared that you were legal in the other way. Not that you were interested; you got your booze, that’s all you cared about.

You eyed the crowd as you took a long drink from your beer. The general vibe was jean jackets and sneakers. You stuck out like a sore thumb in you nearly solid leather outfit, and the crowd definitely weren’t shy about staring. It made you nervous for how they’d receive the boys.

Nikki could handle a bad gig. He’d had plenty of bad shows, and while he’d be pissed, he could pick himself up, dust himself off, and get on with the show. Mick knew you had something special with this group; he could see it, and it’s not like he was the sensitive type. He’d be fine if the show tanked. Vince probably wasn’t as used to bad shows, but you couldn’t imagine Rock Candy started off great; surely he’d dealt with a bad show or two in his life. He’d probably just go do a line with his girlfriend, get a blowjob, then be ready to rock another day.

But what about Tommy? He had boundless optimism, but he was so excited for this gig. Would he be okay if it all fell to pieces their first show? He was probably the least experienced of the four with being in a rock band, the least experienced with the sting of failure. Would he bounce back as easily as the others?

Of course he would, what a stupid question.

This was Tommy; he’s too dumb to be worried about the future. Too happy and excited about life to ever worry things might not work out in the end. That’s just how he is. You smirk to yourself, thinking about it. Then, it occurs to you to wonder why it was you were ever worried about him in the first place.

At the moment, Nikki walks on stage, setlist in hand. The boys all get in position as the crowd whispers around you.

“Alright, we’re Motley Crue!” Vince yells into the microphone. You whoop from your spot at the front of the stage, clapping and smiling up at them. Tommy spins his drumsticks, hitting the high hat, causing it to tip over. You feel your heart ache as the crowd laughs and jeers, booing as Tommy quickly moves to set it back up.

“Come on boys, let’s rock this hole!” Vince yells, sending the boys into “Take Me to the Top.”

That’s it; just let them hear you play. You beg silently. All they have to do is hear your music and they’ll all see, they’ll understand how good you are.

All they have to do is listen.

The booing continues, the mood already set. One heckler yells out at Vince, “Who’s the chick singer?”

“Fuck you asshole!” Vince shouts back. The guy flips Vince off, spitting on his new leather pants.

Shit.

Vince looks at the spit, then back up at guy, before leaping off the stage. He grabs the dude by the vest to punch him, but the guy’s a lot bigger than Vince, and he lands a right hook on Vince face. Nikki doesn’t hesitate. He’s right there, wielding his bass like an axe as he chops right at the guy’s face. He throws his bass down and jumps straight on another guy that’s running right for him. Tommy’s quick to join the fray, leaping of the stage like a dog jumping into a pond. Mick kicks one guy in the face from his place on stage, but doesn’t leave to get into the thick of it, opting instead to play his guitar as the other three duke it out in the middle.

Damnit.

You sigh, busting your beer bottle over the head of one of the two guys Nikki’s fighting. Nikki using the opportunity to punch him in the face before tackling the other guy to the ground. Okay, so he’s fine, next. Vince was next to you. He busts a bottle on some dudes face, kicking him to the ground. Alright, he’s good, that just leaves… Tommy was in the middle of the room, sitting on some guy’s chest punching the shit out of the dude’s face.

Yikes.

Eventually the boys all get pulled back by security. You stand by them at the base of the stage, helping them up as they look awkwardly at the crowd of people staring back at you. There’s a heavy silence spread out amoung the expanse, and no one knows exactly what to do next.

“FUCK YEAH! MOTLEY CRUE!”

Some random dude in the audience yells out all of a sudden, breaking the silence. He starts clapping, getting the rest of the crowd to join in.

And just like the, the tone shifts.

The boys smile at each others, running back on stage. They start playing “Take Me to the Top” and this time, the crowd’s just as into it as you are. You see all four boys smiling on stage for the first time from your place in the crowd, and your heart swells with a feeling you’d never felt before.


	5. Chapter 5

1981

After the first show the boys were on a roll. Word spread fast about the insane new band on the Sunset Strip with crazy rock and crazier style. The guys enlisted your help in getting a large banner made, your handwriting the best between the five of them, and you helped make several props for their shows out of things you already had in the apartment and whatever else you could find at the the thrift store.

The boys could suddenly afford better outfits, and their look was slowly growing bigger and more outrageous with each show they played. You kept styling the boys hair for every show, and thankfully you managed to teach Tommy how to do his own eyeliner. The crowds starting coming to the show’s dressed more like the boys; more leather, bigger hair, and bigger boots. They were starting a fashion trend on the strip with their style without even realizing it.

It had been a few months now since Motley Crue’s initial success, and tonight you were all at your apartment. There was a party raging, as was the case most nights after a show. You would all live it up at the venue for awhile, then move the party to your place when things got too rowdy.

Mick was in his room, no doubt lying arms crossed over his chest like a vampire trying to avoid the crowds and noise. You knew he preferred to avoid the worst of the shit the rest of you got up to. Vince was snorting coke with some redhead, smirking up at her as she sat on his lap. You roll your eyes, knowing it’d be five minutes tops before they’d be up and in the bathroom, screwing like rabbits. You couldn’t blame Blondie for breaking up with Vince the way she did; if anything you respected her for it. It was actually pretty funny, even if Vince was your friend. You didn’t like the stuck-up rich girl, but you weren’t a fan of Vince’s cheating either. If he wanted to sleep with every girl he saw that was fine; just don’t have a girlfriend while you’re doing everyone in sight.

Nikki was giggling like a maniac as he led Tommy into the kitchen. Now that looks like trouble, you think to yourself. You finish off you drink, sitting the cup down on the windowsill and making your way through the crowd to follow them. As you get to the doorframe, you enter the kitchen just in time to see Nikki turn, his enter right sleeve set ablaze.

“Dude that’s fucking sick man!” Tommy yells, laughing.

“Goddamnit Nikki!” You shout, grabbing a dishtowel and soaking it water from the sink. “Why is everyone in this house a fucking pyromaniac!” You say, throwing the soaking dishtowel on Nikki’s burning sleeve, smothering the flame.

“Damnit y/n! You ruined it!” Nikki says, his voice slurred. “You’re a fucking buzzkill, you know that?” He says, throwing the dish towel at your face. You catch it before it has the chance to hit you. “You’re not drunk enough.”

“You’re too drunk!” You snap. “Or have you been doing coke with Vince tonight?”

“Maaaybe?” He draws it out, laughing. Oh yeah, he’s fucked up.

You didn’t necessarily care if the boys did drugs, as long as they didn’t go overboard. It was something your were accustomed to at this point; you’d grown up around it. You had seen it most of your life. You and Nikki had been drinking and smoking since you were teens. Nikki started doing lighter drugs when you were young; younger than most. You were more concerned about becoming an alcoholic like your mother than becoming a druggie; you knew better than to do heroin or the other crazy shit you’d seen some of those people take. A little bit if coke wasn’t gonna kill him; but you wished Nikki didn’t act so stupid when he did it.

“Whatever Nikki. You want to roast yourself alive? Be my fucking guest.” You say, throwing the towel back at him. Tommy was looking back and forth between the two of you. He had never seen you fight before, and clearly he didn’t know what to do about it. “I’m going to bed. Just don’t set our fucking apartment on fire with all of us inside.” You glare at him for another minute, before turning on your heels and storming out.

Fucking asshole, you think, tears stinging your eyes. You didn’t fight with Nikki often, but when you did, it always pissed you off and hurt more than anything else could. Anyone else in the world could hurl any insult they could think of at you and it would just bounce right off, but Nikki gets shit faced and says one negative thing and it makes you feel like your five years old, back in Seattle…

You push through the crowd of people, you heart pounding in your ears. The noise from the party swimming around you, the crowd suffocating you as you feel yourself drowning in a sea of unfamiliar faces. You suddenly feel like you can’t breathe as you lean on the hallway wall, you breath coming faster and faster. You slide to the ground, your hands trembling as you hug your knees to your aching chest. You’re crying, trembling as you feel your chest ache from lack of breath. You’re afraid you’re going to die there, on the dirty floor unnoticed in a crowd of strangers.

“Y/N?” You look up to see Tommy’s face as he kneels down on the floor next to you. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks, looking at you with concern. You couldn’t answer. You just kept staring, crying, breathing without catching your breath. Tommy looked more scared when you didn’t respond. “Fuck, I'm–what do I do, uh…” He sputters, hovering around you. After another second of deliberation, he jumps up. “I’ll be right back.” You whine when he moves to leave. “I promise, I’ll be back.” He says, lightly squeezing your shoulder. “Two seconds.” He says, then runs off.

“What is it Tommy?” Nikki says, scowling as Tommy pushes him forward. “I was just–” He stops dead as soon as he sees you. “Shit.” He gets down on the ground next to you.

“Hey, it’s okay now y/n, I’m here. Can you walk?” He asks. You nod. Nikki slings his arms under your shoulders, helping you up and guiding you the few steps to your door and away from the noise of the party that was still raging behind you. Tommy closes the door to your room as he follows along behind you, his hands fidgeting in front of his chest awkwardly as he watches you, looking like a lost puppy.

In your room, Nikki helps you sit on the bed. You lean your head on his shoulder, tears streaming down your face.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Nikki says, his arm wrapped around you. “I’m gonna count to ten, I need you to breath with me, okay?” He asks. You nod, you head still resting on his shoulders, a strand of his dark hair tickling your cheek.

Nikki slowly counts up to ten, and you try to match your breathing to his words. It’s hard at first, the loud, unsteady pounding of your heart hammering away in your chest was setting your lungs on fire, and your breath was labored and fast. However, a few ten counts in, and you were finally able to match Nikki’s pace, and with the steadying of your breathing the fear inside you slowly began to slip away. And in it’s place a sense of shame. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes, and you buried your face in Nikki’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” You sob, your voice muffled.

“Shut up, you don’t need to be sorry.” He says, squeezing your shoulders tighter. The whole incident leaving him sobered and tired. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” You lean back, wiping your tearstained face on your arm, when you spot Tommy standing by the door.

“Tommy…” You look over at him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

What a state you must be in. What he must think of you now. No one but Nikki had seen you have one of your episodes since you were a kid. You were so embarrassed you could barely look at him. You couldn’t look at him, turning your face down to the floor. You never felt more vulnerable than when you had an attack, and Tommy had seen the whole thing. How were you supposed to explain that when even you didn’t understand why you had them? He was going to think you were crazy. The thought of it nearly made you start crying again.

Nikki watched you, staring at the floor, and put a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s alright y/n, I got it. Just get some rest.” He said, standing up. He led Tommy out of the room, leaving you alone.

You didn’t move for a long time. The sound of the party was soon cut off; Nikki must have kicked everyone out, no longer in the mood for company. Finally, you stand, moving over to your dresser to change into a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, before you turn off the lights and crawl into bed.

As you drift off to sleep, you wonder absently what Nikki will tell Tommy. You wonder what his reaction will be, and how he’ll act tommorow. Is your friendship totally ruined now? Will he avoid you completely now, or will he act like nothing ever happened? Will he think you’re crazy, or just acknowledge that it’s something you have to deal with and move on? Could you really be that lucky?

Probably not.

—

The next morning had gone–well, it was a mixed bag.

On the one hand Tommy, had taken it all better than you had expected. Nikki had explained everything to him. Your panic attacks, how you’d had them since you were a kid. How you got diagnosed when you went into foster care and that’s when Nikki learned about all the different ways he could help you when you were having one. Nikki even told Tommy how he could help you if he found you like that again. Tommy seemed willing to help; not only did he not think you were crazy, he actively wanted to help you out. Great, right?

Yeah, well, not so great was the fact that Nikki had apparently made this a ‘house meeting’ so instead of coming out to talk to Nikki and Tommy about this, you found the whole damn band in a discussion about it. Even though Vince and Mick hadn’t even been involved. Nikki’s reasoning was that because you all lived together, it was possible they might be the ones to stumble upon you; so they should also know how to help you. And in order to help you, they needed to first know there was a problem. Which was sound, but it was still not their fucking business. At the very least Nikki should have discussed it with you first before he started airing your mental laundry to other people.

This leads to another fight between you and Nikki, much worse than the one last night; and this time you were both sober. The boys tried to calm you down, saying ‘it was fine’ and 'it was no big deal’ but somehow that only made you feel more embarrassed. All your friends suddenly knowing how fucked up you were and trying to act like they weren’t judging you for it was not a comforting feeling.

Nikki eventually got pissed and stormed out, leaving you upset and angry. The other boys aren’t really sure what to do, having never been alone with you without Nikki, much less when you’ve been upset. Vince says everyone just needs to relax. Tommy agrees–rememebering Nikki said your attacks could sometimes be triggered by high levels of anxiety or stress. Not really knowing what else to do, you all start drinking, and Vince pulls out his coke.

You had never done cocaine before, but you were so upset, and Vince assures you it feels good. Like a shot of dopamine straight to your brain he says. So you try it, and he’s right; you feel great. Once it kicks in it’s like your fight with Nikki didn’t even happen. You, Vince, and Nikki all do a few lines, while Mick sticks to Jack Daniels.

You spend the rest of the morning hanging out and goofing off with the boys. Your worries a mile away. Nikki comes back expecting to apologize, but by the time he gets there you’ve long since forgotten you were ever mad at him in the first place.

“Nikki!” You yell with a smile a mile wide as he walks in the door. You throw your arms around him. “Nikki Nikki Nikki! You have got to see this!” You say, pushing him until he’s sitting on the end of the couch, with Tommy sitting in the middle. He looks at you, clearly confused by your complete 180. He looks at Vince in one of the chairs, who’s already laughing, then at Mick in the other chair, who’s shacking his head. You take your seat on the other end of the couch.

“Okay okay shut up shut up shut up.” You say, even though no one’s talking. “Are you watching Nikki?” You ask, reaching over Tommy to smack your brother’s shoulder. He looks at you in stunned silence. “Okay okay okay. Do it Tommy.” Tommy smiles. He takes the cigarette he’s been smoking and sticks in one side of his noses, uses his hand to close the other nostril, taking a long, deep breath, then he opens his mouth, and a large cloud of smoke comes bellowing out.

You, Vince, and Tommy start cracking up as Tommy takes the cigarette out of his nose. You’re laughing so hard you fall back-first into Tommy’s lap, which only makes Tommy and Vince laugh harder. Nikki would probably have laughed too, if he wasn’t so concerned about what the hell was wrong with you. He looked over at Mick.

“She’s been doing hits of coke with those two.” Mick explains when he sees Nikki looking at him. Nikki’s eyebrows shoot up. He knew you normally avoiding doing drugs, so the news surprised him, especially after your little fight last night.

“How do you feel y/n?” Nikki asked. Looking down at you. You smile.

“Awesome.” Tommy laughs, and you laugh too. Everything seemed so funny. You were just in such a good mood. You had never felt so happy. Maybe there was something to this after all. You weren’t gonna go out and pump yourself full of heroin. But this felt so nice. How could it be bad to do it, you know, just sometimes. When they were all doing it.

That could be okay.


	6. Chapter 6

1983

“We’re gonna fucking die.” Mick says as he walks back down the hallway. The boys were dressed in their most outlandish outfits yet. Leather and chains, hair to the ceiling, and more make-up than even you had on. They look sick–in more ways than one. Tommy’s face looks green as he nervously paces the hallway, spining his drumstick as he goes. He’s so nervous he actually drops it; you’ve never seen him do that before. You put a hand on his shoulder, but before you have a chance to comfort him Tom Zutaut–the nerdy guy who signed the boys with Elektra Records–comes up to the group.

Oh this should be good.  
He gives some shitty little corporate speech about how this is their first big show, how there’s 16,000 people out there, and tells them not to fuck it up. Great, thanks a lot asshole. You think as you glare at his back while he walks away, off to look for Vince. As if they weren’t nervous enough. Doc, the boys new manager, steps in and tries to help quell the boys nerves a bit, but there’s only so much he can do.

You then move up to the catwalk by the stage, where you’re soon joined by Vince.

“Jesus fucking Christ man.” Nikki starts, grabbing Vince by the shoulder. “You do realize we just signed a record deal with his company and fucking his girlfriend could serious fuck that up?”

“Only if he finds out man.” Vince laughs as he replies.

“You’re such a slut Vince.” You note absently, though you’re smiling as you say it. Before he has a chance to quip back, Tommy starts throwing up over the railing. You rush over to rub his back.

“Seriously, we’re gonna die.” Mick says in his usual deadpan tone, though there’s a hint of worry underneath.

“I’m okay!” Tommy says, standing up. He grabs a beer and takes a few drinks to clear the taste of vomit from his mouth.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You ask, grabbing his face between your hands to get him to hold still. He looked fine–a little pale maybe–but that was probably just his nerves. You felt like you were gonna hurl any second, you were so nervous; and you weren’t even going out on stage! He laughs.

“Chill out mom; it’s all good!” He jokes. You scoff.

“Tch, fine. See if I ever worry about your scrawny ass again.” You say, letting go of his face.

“Alright listen up!” Nikki says, gesturing for the group to huddle up. “Come on gather round guys.” You stand back, watching the boys gather together as a band. It made your heart swell, knowing they’d made it this far.

They were finally going to make their dreams come true.

“You too y/n.” Nikki says, looking at you. You look surprised as the boys all stare back at you expectantly, smiles on their faces. You tried to hide your own smile as you squeeze in between Tommy and Nikki.

“Look where we are. We got an old man, a kid drummer, a cover band singer, and two fucking runaways. No one would have thought we would have made it here so fuck them. Win it all or lose it all we’re Motley fucking Crue! So let’s destroy these motherfuckers!” Tommy howls as Nikki high fives his bandmates and they run to get ready to head out on stage.

You high five all the boys as the pass you, heading for the stage. You’re smiling from ear to ear, unable to contain the pure joy you feel inside you. When Nikki gets up to you, you throw your arms around him.

“Go kick some ass.” You say before letting him go. He smirks back at you before running out onto the stage.

Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles: Motley Crue!  
You stood on the edge of the stage and watch the boys perform. You had seen their shows a hundred times before, but nothing on this scale. The stadium was huge, the crowd was massive, the effects were unreal. Seeing them up their, performing 'Shout at the Devil’ on stage for the first time–you couldn’t believe it was all real. It was finally happening; everything Nikki had dreamed of all those years you lived in fear with your mom and her abusive boyfriends, in the system, then alone on the street. He had finally made it.

So what about you?  
—

Early 1984

The Ozzy Osbourne Tour Begins  
The boys popularity was growing, and with it they’d gained enough notoriety to open for the Prince of Darkness himself on his new tour. With the fame came money and drugs and women and a whole lot of partying; and you were always along for the ride.

The boys insisted that you come along for the tour despite having no real work to do anymore. They had a stylist now, so a professional could do their hair and makeup. Turns out Tommy was right; it was a skill. They had a whole team of people working on prop design and pyrotechnics; no more of your thriftstores designs were necessary. And with Doc around to clean up their messes you found yourself more and more with nothing to do but sit around and watch other people work.

You were glad to be on the tour, but with nothing to do you had to wonder why you were there. The boys brought you along, paid for your way, but you had no job to do. They said you had more than earned your keep by supporting them as much as you had for as long as you did. They said you were an important member of the team and they couldn’t do this without you. But a cheerleader is still just a cheerleader, and really, you thought they just wanted you around to party with them.

Still, the partying was awesome. Legendary, in fact. You were staying in swanky hotels you could never have dreamed of staying in as a kid. Eating the best food, drinking the best booze, and doing the best drugs. Then there was Ozzy; he was on a whole other level, and he influenced the boys to up game considerably, and you were usually right there with them.

While you could have done without ever seeing Ozzy licking up his own piss off the ground–or worse still, Nikki’s piss–or snorting a whole line of ants, there were some fun moments too. Mostly just with you and the boys raising hell and causing Doc to rip his hair out.

You were hanging out in Vince’s room with Nikki, Vince, and Tommy. The four of you were doing hits of coke when Tommy looks out the window and stifles a laugh.

“Aw dude you guys check this out.” He says, moving over to the dresser, unplugging the large TV and grabbing one side. “Nikki help me out man.” Nikki sticks his head out the window and snorts, realizing Tommy’s plan, then moves to grab the other side of the television. The two walk the heavy TV to the window, then quickly hoist it up and toss it out, sticking their heads out to peer over the ledge. You and Vince rush over to look out, seeing the TV now crunched into the top of a sporty looking car below. A man in a tan business suit looking very distressed as he stares in shock at the now-ruined vehicle. You try not to laugh as you and the boys look down at him.

“So sorry man.” Vince says.

“Yeah our bad dude.” You concur.

“What happened?” Nikki shouts.

“It slipped man–right through.” Tommy says, indicating his fingers.

“What the fuck?” The man shouts back. The boys don’t hear him though, as they’ve already headed back into the room to grab more shit to throw on his car. You join in, grabbing a lamp off the bedsit table and tossing it out as you continue to shout your apologies at the guy. You grab a wooden chair and toss it out too, again, apologizing as you do so.

You know you’re being stupid. How ridiculous and outrageous do you have to be to throw a giant, 80 pound TV out a window and onto a car? That’s fucking crazy. In the back of your mind you knew the things you were doing were childish and you should try to reel the boys in–you might be the only one who could–but you just felt so good, and you were all having too much fun. Why spoil it by being the buzzkill?

The boys brought you on the tour to party and have fun with them; what were you doing if you weren’t having fun? Wasn’t that your job now? To be their good time? A friend they can trust and party with every night in a sea of strangers?

Sometimes you tried to offset your stupid behavior by trying to do something helpful. It was hard because, as far as you could tell, there simple was nothing for you to do. After the stylists and caterer said they didn’t need any extra hands and the roadies refused to let you help carry stuff because they seemed to feel you 'too important’ whatever the hell that meant, you thought it was hopeless. But then you stumbled onto Doc doing se paperwork out in the lobby one day. You asked if he needed any help and he actually said yes; if you didn’t mind.

Just like that you would, on occasion, help Doc out with some of his paperwork. Nothing too important of course; just helping him keep things organized or doing some basic math for him while he worked on other things. Luckily you were good with numbers. You typically only helped him out when you felt guilty about how the boys were behaving, but then again the boys misbehaved often. On the flip side, you also had to be free to help; and that meant you had to be both sober enough from the night before and the boys weren’t expecting you somewhere: this wasn’t a common scenario.

Nearly afternoon you woke up and you felt like shit. The last night’s revelry hitting you hard. The hangover from the booze and drugs making you sick and shaky. With a clear head, you’d think about cutting back; doing less coke, drinking less alcohol. But by the time the you get on the bus, you’re anxious. Your body feels dull, grey, lifeless. When Vince pulls out his stash, you’re usually the first to move back to join him, Tommy or Nikki close behind. Then you’d slide up next to Tommy and talk about some stupid shit you guys did the night before–if either of you can remember it.

Tommy had become your best friend in the two short years you’d known him. He was still a total idiot and an absolute maniac, but you never trusted anyone more. He told you all about his parents and his dreams about finding true love like theirs, and you slowly let him chip away at your walls, letting him know more about your childhood and your mom. You begrudgingly dealt with every single one of his jealous girlfriends who saw you as a threat, because he was so happy he’d 'really found the one.’ And he constantly pestered you about getting a boyfriend because you were 'too hot to end up a spinster.’

Tommy just didn’t understand. His parents were the picture of true love. Your mom dated a different piece of shit every week. You’ve never seen what a healthy relationship even looks like. You don’t even know what love is. Nikki was the only person you ever cared about until two years, and clearly that wasn’t the same. Now you really care about the guys and even if you can say you love them all, it’s not romantic. Even just learning to trust them was a big enough hurdle; how are you supposed to trust someone enough give your whole heart to them? Your whole life? Or worse, making yourself vulnerabe, trusting someone and opening yourself up to them, just to have them reject you when they see who you really are?

No, you’d rather be alone.  
—

One night while on tour, you’re in your hotel room lounging around, watching TV. Normally you’d be out partying with the boys, but you’d had a rough night the day before and you were feeling sluggish. You were snuggled in bed, nightgown on, room service ordered, when you hear commotion outside in the hallway. You get up, knowing that, whatever it was, it would probably have something to do with the boys.

You open the door and just barely manage to side step as Tommy, naked except for a pair of small black studded underwear, black Chuck Taylor’s, and white tube socks, tumbles into the room, falling face-down, ass-up onto the ground. Hearing more footsteps approaching quickly you grab the outside door handle, keeping the door open just a hair so you won’t be locked out, but shielding Tommy from view.

A pair of police officers round the corner. They spot you, standing in the hallway in your thin, short nightgown, and slow, approaching you. One clears his throat, clearly trying to keep his eyes from looking too far down.

“Good evening miss. Did you happen to see a um, a man run past here a moment ago?” He asks.

Oh this was gonna be too easy.  
“Oh officers, thank goodness you showed up!” You say, feigning distress. You always were a good actress, when the occasion called for it. “ I came out to see what all the noise was and a crazy naked man just ran right by here! It was terrifying!” You say, throwing your free hand up to cover your mouth.

“Which way did he go miss?” The other officer asks.

“Um, I, I think he went that way.” You say, pointing a shaky hand down one of the hallways. The officers look at each other and nod, then look back at you.

“Thank you for you help miss.” The first officer says, tipping his hat at you. You wave as you watch them run off down the hallway.

Suckers.  
You head back into your room, Tommy’s shoes and socks have been discarded by the door, and he lays face down on your bed.

“Cops are gone.” You say, walking up to him. “Ugh, you smell like a dumpster.” You pinch your nose as you give his side a quick jab. He whines, smacking your hand away.

“Look, I don’t mind you crashing in here, but if you think you’re sleeping in my bed smelling like a vomit-covered jockstrap you’ve got another thing coming pal.” You place your hands on you hips, raising an eyebrow. He opens one eye to look at you, then groans, rolling over and sitting up.

“Ugh, fine. You win.” He pouts, standing. You smirk.

“I always do.” You reply smugly, moving over to your suitcase. It’s a total wreck, but you know exactly what you’re looking for.

This tour had been one crazy stunt after another for the boys, and that had led to all four of them showing up at your door at least once with a place to sleep; sometimes gross and always without a change of clothes.

First was Mick after the boys had torched his room while he was still inside. He and his clothes had reeked of smoke, and obviously his room was in no shape to be used; not that he really wanted to be alone at that point anyway, in case the boys wanted to mess with him some more. The next was Vince, who had to flee his room after an incident with a groupie. She’d gotten a little too crazy even by Vince’s incredibly high standards, and he had to run out without any clothes on. By the time you’d gotten back to check out his room to see if the coast was clear, she’d completely trashed the place; his clothes all ripped to shreds and the bed–well, let’s just say no one would be sleeping in it anytime soon. Tommy was third, after the unfortunate Ozzy poop incident; and that’s all you’d say about that. Finally, there was Nikki, who had thrown up into his open suitcase–and all over himself–and was too embarrassed to go to the others for help. His room smelled like vomit so bad he couldn’t stand to be in it, and he was so sick he needed someone take care of him all night.

You started carrying around an emergency kit for the boys: a spare outfit, a set of pajamas, and some shower necessities with scents the boys wouldn’t gripe about. You toss the bag at him and make your way to the bed as he moves to the bathroom. You pick up the phone on the nightstand, hearing the water in the shower roar to life as the woman at the he front desk answers. You add on a second order for your room service, then snuggle under the covers as you watch M*A*S*H.

You were laughing when Tommy stepped out of the bathroom, a towel over his head as he dries his hair. He had on the cotton, plaid pajama pants, but had opted to go shirtless.

“I ordered you food. Should be getting here any time.” You say, grabbing the TV guide off the nightstand. “What do you wanna watch? Or are you just gonna eat and pass out?” He tossed the towel on the ground and threw himself ont the bed next to you, snatching the book from your hands. “Hey!”

“Hmm…” He looks deep in thought as flips through the TV guide and you laugh at the face he’s making. You poke the spot between his eyebrows that’s gone all wrinkled as he feigns concentration.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” You joke.

“Oh! Indiana Jones is on soon!” He says, pointing to the listing on the page.“ You lean in.

"Hell yeah! That sounds perfect!” You say smiling. You key in the channel, muting the TV until the movie starts. Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “Ah, must be the room service.” You say, rustling to get out from under the covers.

“I got it dude.” Tommy says, putting his hand up to stop you from getting out of bed. He gets up and moves across the room, opening the door. The young girl was clearly surprised to see Tommy answer; not expecting the handsome–shirtless–rockstar when it was you who had ordered everything. You roll your eyes and smirk as the poor girl stammers and blushes her way through giving Tommy the food; Tommy completely oblivious to her plight. He was used to girls throwing themselves on him, not acting like shy schoolgirls.

You were used to this. Tommy and the rest of the boys had that effect on girls pretty much everywhere they went. You mostly saw them with the groupies; the girls whose whole function was to do the dirty with rockstars. While you didn’t love having to watch girls hang all over your brother because, well, gross; you had more or less gotten used to it. You didn’t really care if the guys slept around; it was their life, they could do what they wanted. If they were dating someone at the time you made it clear you didn’t approve; though you never ratted them out.

The biggest problem with Tommy was his true love complex. He wanted to be in love so badly he let these girls take advantage of him. He’d fall in love with the first hot chick he saw, and she’d just run with it because she knew he was rich and famous and she could use him for his money and fame. Then, as much as you would want to tell him she was a golddigger, you couldn’t because he was so happy and you knew he’d just get mad if you tried to 'ruin it for him.’ So you just smiled and let it happen, knowing it would eventually crash and burn before they could get too serious.

For Tommy’s sake, you hoped one day he’d find someone who actually loved him. He had so much love to give, and he was genuinely a good person under all the crazy antics and stupid jokes. He deserved to be happy; at least, you thought so.

Tommy came back into the room pushing a little cart loaded up with food. You scooted up in bed so you were sitting upright, and Tommy laid a tray of food in your lap; you weren’t feeling your best, so obviously you’d opted for the ultimate comfort meal: breakfast food. You’d gotten crepes with strawberries, strawberry syrup, and topped with a ton of whipped cream. You’d ordered Tommy his signature blueberry pancakes; it always made you think of the first night you met him when you saw them. You also ordered sides of bacon, sausage, hash browns, and eggs. He put his food on the nightstand, pulled the covers back and crawled into bed, then grabbed the tray and put it on his lap, spreading the sides out between the two of you.

You turned the sound back on when the movie starts, and dig into your food.

“God Marion is such a badass.” Tommy says, mouth full of pancake as you watch the scene in Marion’s bar.

“You don’t think she’s too, uh, brash?” You ask, grabbing a strawberry with your fork.

“What? No way man! Just because she says what’s on her mind that doesn’t make her a bitch! There’s a difference between like, being rude and uh, being assertive and sticking up for yourself.” He says, grabbing a piece of bacon. You smile.

“Wow Tommy that’s actually very mature of you; I’m impressed.” You say. “I didn’t think you were capable of such deep thought.” You add, smirking over at him.

“Now you see, that was rude.” He says, pointing his slice of bacon at you. You laugh as you take another bite of your crepe.

When the food was all gone, Tommy takes the trays and tosses them haphazardly off the bed, and the two of you finish watching the movie before turning off the lights and snuggling under the covers. It was still pretty early for either of you to sleep; it was barely even 1am, but either you would stay awake talking for a few more hours, or you would both pass out and you could catch up on the extra sleep you both probably needed.

“Tommy?” You say his name as you turn on your side to face him. He rolls over to face you.

“Yeah?” He replies. You wanted to ask Tommy about the questions that had been plaguing you. About your place on the tour. About why they insisted on dragging you along with them when you were clearly just dead weight. About your future with the band when the tour was over. But the words died on your lips; too afraid of the answers.

“Do you think Indy and Marion stay together? After it’s all said and done I mean?” You ask.

“Well of course! It’s true love!” He says, smiling at you. You laugh.

“There you go talking about true love again. You’re such a cheese ball.” You say, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know; Indiana Jones seems like a James Bond type to me. A 'love’m and leave’m’ sort of character, you know? Like he’s got real commitment issues.”

“Well, if he does leave her, he’s an idiot; Marion’s the total package! She’s a babe and a total badass, she can drink him under the table, and she’s actually like, sweet when she wants to be, yah know? Plus they’ve known each other for years dude! Who could he ever find that could ever top all that?” He asks.

“Well, if there’s another one and they do have a new girl, maybe she’ll be a spy, or a supermodel, or an actress; something glamorous. And I’m sure she’ll be drop dead gorgeous.” You say.

“Tch, whatever man. Still won’t be as good as Marion I’m sure.” Tommy replies, and you laugh.

You spent the next few hours talking quietly about movies and TV, then the band. The boys are filming their new music video soon, and the topic soon shifts to that. Before long your eyelids begin to droop, and you feel yourself nodding off. The last thing you remember is seeing Tommy’s face laughing as you slowly shut your eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

1984

You and the boys had gone out to a club to party, and you were having a blast. You’d stuck with the boys in booth at first–drinking and doing some lines of coke to get the night started–but once the girls starting showing up you decided you’d rather find your own fun instead of watching the boys have there’s.

You head out onto the dance floor, swaying along to the music as you let the drugs and alcohol fuel your movements. Prince’s “When Dove’s Cry” had just started blasting through the speakers, when you hear a voice call out to you.

“Well ‘ello there!” He yells over the music. You turn to see a young man with long chestnut hair smiling at you. He was wearing a red velvet jacket over a silky, ruffled button up shirt, and a top hat. Definitely glam rock, you thought; though a different brand than your boys. “You look like you could use a drink.” He says, in an unmistakable English accent. You look him up and down, not making any effort in hiding the action.

Oh, what the hell? You were sick of the boys having all the fun.

“I think you’re right.” You agree with a smirk.

You follow him over to the bar, leaning on it as you order a bottle of Jack Daniels. He comes over, leaning on his elbow so he’s facing you.

“Are ya plannin’ to get glasses, or are we drikin’ it straight from the bo'le?” He asks, smiling.

“Who says I’m sharing?” You reply, smirking back at him playfully.

“Oof, are all American women this cold?” He jokes.

“I thought you Brits were used to the cold?” You shoot back. He laughs.

“Touché.” He leans in. “But just cause we’re used to the cold, that don’t mean we ain’t fond of a li'le ‘eat every once and awhile.”

The bartender brings your bottle of Jack, with two glasses, and you open the it and quickly pour out drinks for the two of you; grateful for something to focus on that wasn’t the look he was giving you. You were used to odd flirtation here and there, but you rarely flirted back, so nothing every got very far. This was new territory for you, and you had to admit, as confident as you may appear on the outside, you were feeling a little flustered. Good thing you had a little liquid courage to keep things going. You take your drink in one quick shot as he watches you.

“Wow, I’m impressed.” He says, smiling. “Though I’d expect nothin’ less from a bird who 'angs wif Motley Crue.” He says as he takes a drink. You squint at him, the roll your eyes.

“Oh I see; you want to meet the band–that’s why you wanted to get drinks with me.” You say, pouring yourself another drink.

“Well, I would like to meet 'em,” He starts, and you scowl over at him. “But drinkin’ wif you seems like a much be'er use of my time.” He finishes, smiling. You squint at him.

“And if I don’t believe you?” You ask. He puts a hand over his heart, raising his other up.

“Scouts 'onor!” He replies.

“You couldn’t have been a boy scout–you’re fucking English!” You snap.

“I don’t know! It’s just what you American’s always say in movies, ain’t it?” He replies. The two of you look at each other, and you both start cracking up.

“What’s your name anyway?” You ask.

“Razzle.” He replies, dramatically taking off his top hat and doing a sweeping bow.

“Razzle?” You repeat, laughing.

“It’s my stage name. I’m the drumma for the band Hanoi Rocks. We’re here on our first Norf American tour.”

“Uh huh. Well my name’s y/n Sixx. It’s nice to meet you Razzle.” You hold out your hand but he just looks at you.

“I’m sorry, did you say y/n Sixx, as in–”

“As in Nikki Sixx, yeah; he’s my older brother.” You smirk. “Not gonna scare you off, is it?”

“He’s not gonna murder me, is he?” He asks, half-serious.

“Probably not.” You reply with a smile.

You and Razzle hang by the bar, chatting and flirting. In spite of your best efforts, you’re actually having fun. Razzle is funny and charming; and that accent isn’t hurting anything either. He’s cute, and ridiculous, and more than anything he’s not in Motley Crue. When was the last time you’d spent any real time with anyone that wasn’t one of those four maniacs? Had you ever really? Aside from making friends with Vince’s girlfriend Sharise, you’d had basically no relationships with anyone outside the band since, well–ever, and even then she was your friend because of the band. You had no one; nothing you’d made on your own.

Eventually, perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, you decide to take Razzle to meet the boys. After all, if you do decide to leave with him, they’ll need to know where you’ve gone. You head over to the booth where the boys are, each of them–except Mick–with at least one girl sitting next to him. You walk up smiling as Razzle trails behind you, his hand in yours as you lead him through the crowd.

“Hey guys, you look like you’re enjoying yourselves.” You comment, looking around at the girls at the table. The boys laugh.

“Right back at you.” Vince says, eyeing Razzle. “Finally living a little, huh y/n? Good for you.” He laughs.

“Fucking nasty, I don’t need to hear this shit.” Nikki says, looking away.

“Welcome to my world.” You smirk at him. Tommy, sitting next to Nikki, just stares at Razzle with an unreasonable expression.

“Anyway, this is Razzle; I picked him up on the dance floor–” You introduce him.

“Oh you picked me up, is it?” He interjects and you laugh, ignoring him as you continue.

“–he’s in the band Hanoi Rocks; they’re actually here on their first North American tour.” You finish.

“Why don’t you guys sit down? Join us?” Vince offers. There’s barely enough room for you two to squeeze in by Mick.

You all start talking and drinking, and Razzle easily merges himself into the group. The boys all seem to get along with him well; all except Tommy, who’s been acting weird ever since you got back.

“So what do you play man?” Nikki asks him.

“I’m the drumma.” Razzle replies, and for whatever reason you catch Tommy scoff and look away.

“How you liking the states so far?” Vince asks.

“Oh, it’s been great.” Razzle says, then he leans his arm around your shoulder, looking down at you. “But I think it’s ge'in’ even be'er.” Tommy rolls his eyes as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

No one has ever openly flirted with you in front of the boys before; it was–well, it was nice. Embarrassing, oh absolutely, but it also felt good to be seen as something other then a friend, or a sister; and to be wanted enough that they’d be willing to risk pissing off Motley fucking Crue–that felt, well…

“Hey,” You start, smiling over at Razzle. “You know I just remembered; I think I left the stove on in my hotel room. I should probably go check it…” You trail off. Razzle’s eyebrows shoot up so far they nearly disappear into the brim of his top hat.

“Uh, right then; well we wouldn’t want to um, burn down the 'otel now would we then?” He says, clearly nervous as he scrambles to stand.

“No, we wouldn’t.” You reply, raising an eyebrow. You see him swallow a lump in his throat.

“Right well, um…” He glances over at the boys, who are all looking back at the two of you with a mix of expressions. Vince can barely contain his laugher, but also almost looks proud, Nikki just looks grossed out, and Mick looks bored. Tommy looks pissed; completely forgotting the girls setting on either side of him as he glares over at Razzle. “I could give you a 'and wif that, if you like?”

“I’ll need both hands, actually.” You reply. You hear someone–Nikki, you think–choke on their drink, but you’re pretty far past paying any attention to the boys. You have to deal with groupies sticking their hands down the boys pants and giving them blowjobs on a regular basis; they can live with a little bit of pregame flirting. You do hear Vince laughing his ass off; at least someone was happy for you.

“Right well uh,” Razzle was blushing now, probably because he was worried about you being so suggestive in front of the boys and he didn’t want to get his ass kicked. “I’ll see you around then mates, eh?” He says, tipping his hat to the boys quickly as you grab his scarf to pull him away. As you take a quick glance back at the table, you catch a glimpse of Tommy glaring daggers at Razzle.

“You kids be safe now!” Vince yells, a shit eating grin on his face. “Use protection!” You throw up your middle finger with your free hand, and you hear him laugh before he’s drown out by the noise of the club.

—

You and Razzle had a lot of fun—a lot; and surprisingly he didn’t just leave after the two of you slept together. You end up hanging out and talking most of the night; ordering room service and getting to know each other while taking frequent breaks to makeout. By the time you finally pass out, covered in nothing but the sheet and Razzle’s arms, you felt the stirring of something new forming inside you.

Razzle left the next morning to join back up with his bandmates, but not before peppering you with kisses and sweet nothings. You rolled your eyes and hit him with your pillow, laughing. As he leans away, you grab his scarf and pull him in for one more long kiss, before finally sending him on his way.

You’d both compared tour schedules and you each knew the names and locations of the next hotels the other was staying at; if one of you wanted to call each other, you very easily could. But would you? Would he? You were willing to admit he was a nice distraction and he seemed like a good guy; but would you go all the way and admit to yourself that you may have developed a bit of a crush on the charming Brit?

Your own hang ups aside, that would be complicated; you were touring with the boys, while Hanoi had their own tour, so not a lot of time to get to know each other. When your tour was done and maybe you could try to spend some time with him, he’d be back in London; kinda of far to try and start anything. If there was anything, of course. Still, you’ve seen crazier things work; you were touring with them right right now. Then there was the boys to consider: could you leave them behind for someone else? If it ever came to that?

You realize you’re being ridiculous. No matter how much you may think you like him, it was still only one night; no need to worry about it right now. If you did ever see him again, then you could work something out. Maybe you could go visit him when he went home or something; just for a little while. You had always wanted to go to England, and maybe a little time away from the boys would be good for you after spending three years solid with them.

You remembered to ask Tommy about all the attitude he gave Razzle the next day on the bus. He didn’t seem that thrilled to talk about it; outright denying it at first, before playing it off after you kept pushing. Finally, he said that he was 'just being a good friend.’ When you questioned him further, he said he just didn’t think Razzle was a good match for you; said the rockstar lifestyle isn’t a good place to pick up a committed boyfriend, and that you’d have to uproot your whole life. You couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Dude, first of all I know exactly what rockstars get up to–you don’t have to tell me, I’ve seen it.” You reply “But then what about you? Aren’t you a rockstar looking for true love?”

“That’s different.” He says, looking away.

“And what’s this uprooting my whole life business? Didn’t you tell me your mom came here from Greece when she didn’t even know English because your parents were so in love? I’m not looking to elope with the guy, but at least if I did ever go visit him we’d be speaking the same language.” You laugh.

“Barely…” He mutters under his breath.

“Ugh, I seriously don’t get you!“ You say, shoving his shoulder in frustration as you sit next to him. “You bug me for years to date, and I finally show the slightest bit of interest in a guy, and suddenly everything in the world is wrong with him?” You ask.

“No dude, it’s just–“ He says, leaning his head back against the seat. “You just deserve the best, that’s all; I don’t want you wasting your time with someone who isn’t good enough for you.” You smile and grab his hand, and he lifts his head and looks at you.

“Tommy, that’s sweet, really–you know I appreciate how much you care about me, and I feel the same way about you. But I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.” You squeeze his hand, holding onto the moment for a little longer, before finally letting go. “Besides, you should really be taking your own advice there bud; I’m not the one with a string of crazy ex-girlfriends. Maybe instead of judging my taste in partners, you should start trying to be a little more selective with yours, hmm?” You joke, and Tommy groans.

“They really do always start out so great though.” He whines.

“Yes Tommy, I’m sure the sex is great with a hot girl with a lot of experience; but you really need to learn to look past that and see the signs that these women are just using you for your fame, money, and good looks.”

“You think I’m good looking?” He asks, smiling.

“Your one redeeming feature.” You joke, pinching his cheek.

—

1984

How did this happen?

You watch in the mirror as the stylist finishes applying your make-up. You look at your face under your mane of hair; as wild and big as they could possibly make it. They’d given you make-up like the boys; foundation obviously lighter than your skintone, your eyes were lined black, and your eyeshadow was smokey and expertly done. You had a dark berry blush spread across your cheekbones, and a matching lipstick on your lips. Under the large, silver prop tiara that spread across your face you looked intense to be sure. Again, you had to wonder: how did this happen?

"How’s it coming along in here?” Doc asks, popping his head into the room. You turn your head to look at him, and you were sure the gust of wind caused by your giant wall of hair would probably cause a hurricane in China someday. “Ha! You look fantastic!” He says, coming fully into the room and throwing his arms up.

“Yeah, great–remind me again why I’m the one doing this?” You ask.

“The actress who we originally booked for the role called in–said she had some emergency and couldn’t make it.” Doc explained.

“And so why are we not using one of the other post-apocalyptic actress chicks as a stand-in?” You ask as you hug your arms around your exposed midruff; your costume leaving very little to the imagination.

You were dressed in a black, red, and silver 'armored’ bikini. The top was a tube that attached to a shoulder guard on one side. There were a lot of belts and chains incorporated into the outfit, and your legs were covered by holey fishnets tights. You also sported a thick red collar around your neck, and some ankle high, black heeled boots.

“When the guys heard I guess one of them suggested you would be good for the role, and then the rest thought it was such a great idea they refused to consider any alternatives.” You scowled at him, and he shrugs. “You know how they get; when they’ve made up their minds there’s no talking them out of it.” You sigh, knowing he was right. “Anyway, we should head out that way; they’ll need you on set before too long.“

The boys had already been filming for awhile, getting some of the first few shots done. They were apparently having to reset and reshoot a lot, and they were expecting to have to be there most of the day.

Great, you were so looking forward to walking around all day in a bikini with your ass hanging out.

You walk out on set, arms still wrapped around your exposed midriff. The boys were all hanging out together, waiting for the crew to set up the next scene. Tommy is the first to spot you, his eyes going wide as he takes you in. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at you: eyes wide, mouth open. You start to feel a little self-conscious as you walk up to them, then Vince notices you.

“Damn y/n! I knew you’d look good in that costume but shit–if I’d have know you were gonna look this good, I’d have paid you a visit in your dressing room earlier.” He jokes, and you smirk.

“Keep that up Vinny, and I just might have to have a conversation with your wife.” You quip. The boys all laugh.

“You do look fierce in that outfit Sixx; like something out of Mad Max.” Mick says.

“Yeah, if Mad Max was a porno.” You mumble. He chuckles. “Thanks Mick.” You quickly add, realizing he had found a way to compliment you without being a creep like Vince.

“I’m not really looking forward to this; it sounded funny at the time, but now it’s just weird.” Nikki says, his nose wrinkled. “I’ll let Vince do the handsy scenes; I’ll just tell the director to only get shots of me and my bass.”

“Seconded.” Mick says, clearly not loving the idea of having to touch you. Oh right. You’d kind of forgotten the script had them physically touching you a few times.

The general premise of the video was some vague, probably post-apocalyptic world. The boys would corral a group of girls into a pen, then you’d bust throw a wall up on a hill, free the girls, then the boys would chase you into some futuristic hallway. This is where they’d actually put hands on you, even if it was only for a second or two each time, before you’d slip away from them. Then they’d team up and somehow smite you, leaving behind a burning pentagram. There were a few scenes you were worried about; some closeups where you would have to actually do some facial acting, the one where you had to hold a large shield that had actual fire on it, and some physical stuff. But you hadn’t considered the fact that you’d have to be sexy with the boys while dressed in a skimpy bikini.

“Those scenes don’t last very long, right? I can do that; and we can just use Vince and Tommy. It’ll be fine.” You reply.

“Huh? Oh, yeah–yeah right. That’s totally fine.” Tommy says, looking down.

—

You watched the boys film until it got to be your turn to go on. You were nervous, but found yourself actually pretty excited at the same time. It took a couple takes to get into the swing of things, but once you got the initial jitters out of your system things started moving along smoothly. You managed to get half your scenes with little issue; even getting through the flaming shield scene without getting burned. They cut for a break when they had to move the sets for the new shooting location, the futuristic hallway, and you all finally had a break. You spot Tommy walking around with two middle aged people, showing them the set. When he sees you, he smiles wide and waves you over.

“Mom, dad, this is y/n!” He says, squeezing your shoulder. “Y/N, this is my mom and dad!”

Great, you’re meeting Tommy’s perfect suburban parents dressed like a post-apocalyptic hooker. Isn’t that just swell.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Mr. and Mrs. Bass; Tommy talks about you all the time.” You say, smiling at them politely. You wanted Tommy’s parents to like you, but you weren’t really used to parents.

“Shut up, dude.” Tommy whispers, nudging you with his elbow. “I do not.” You laugh.

“It is nice to finally meet you y/n.” Tommy’s mother says, smiling at you warmly as she comes over to give you a hug. You’re surprised, but you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around her. Her dark, curly hair tickled your face as she holds you; she smells like vanilla. “Tommy is all always telling us stories about you when he calls.” She says, still smiling warmly as she lets you go.

“Oh gosh, that’s, uh–that’s embarrassing.” You say.

“Oh no, not at all; we appreciate you taking care of Tom. We sleep better knowing our boy has someone out here who really cares about him and whose’s looking out for his wellbeing.” His father says, wrapping an arm around his wife. Looking out for him? What had Tommy been telling them?

“Come on pop, now that’s embarrassing.” Tommy whines.

“No more embarrassing than what you used to causing yourself everyday.” You joke without thinking. You throw your hand up, looking at his parents, who both laugh.

“And you keep him on his toes I see–Tom said you were funny.” He dad says. “And clever.”

“I don’t know if those were my exact words.” Tommy grumbles.

“But Tommy, you did not say she was so pretty?” His mom says, smacking her son lightly on the arm. Even though there’s no way it hurt him, he rubs the spot where her delicate hand made impact.

“I don’t see how that matters?” Tommy asks.

“Y/N, do you have boyfriend?” Tommy’s mother asks, grabbing your hands. You feel a fire burst in your cheeks.

“Um…” You didn’t even no where to begin with that question.

Technically speaking–the answer was no, you didn’t; but it was a bit more complicated than that. After your night with Razzle you admit you thought about him more than you had expected to that next day. Then that whole night. Then the next morning. So it was a total shock when, your resolve nearly broken, he actually called you first.

If one of you hadn’t called you might not have spoken again for some time; not knowing exactly which hotel the other would be in next. He admitted he had been thinking about you just as much, and the two of you exchanged hotel info again and agreed to call as soon as you got to your next destination. And you did. You kept calling, at every hotel you went to you called, or he called, and you just talked. That’s it. You were sure he was probably still sleeping with groupies, but you couldn’t be mad at him, because he wasn’t your boyfriend; he was just a guy you talked to every day. And that’s all it could be–for now.

Then there was the other half of his mother’s question: Tommy. First of all, she was only asking because she wanted to set you up, which just, no. Tommy was your best friend; every girlfriend he’d ever been with had made this mistake and it’s no surprise his parents would make it too. You were close, and of course you loved him, but not like that. It was sweet his mom would actually think you were good enough for her son, but that wasn’t ever going to happen. Not in this lifetime.

The more pressing issue here, was her asking if your single seemed to indicate she thought Tommy was currently single. That meant she didn’t know about Roxy; Tommy’s new girlfriend. She was some groupie Tommy had picked up from some other band the boys had played with. She saw her opportunity with a bigger, more successful band and she’d pounced. And of course Tommy–sweet, stupid Tommy–had fallen head over heels for her.

“Mom! Come on, don’t even start with that!” Tommy says. Before his mom can argue, Doc walks up with Nikki in tow, looking a little disheveled. “Oh hey, here’s someone else I want you to meet. Mom, dad meet the Sixxter.” He says, walking over to Nikki and giving him a high five.

"So nice to finally meet you.” Tommy’s mother says, giving Nikki a hug. Nikki looks awkward as he hugs her back, clearly not expecting the affectionate greeting.

“It’s a pleasure.” Tommy’s father says, giving Nikki a firm handshake.

“Hey, Nikki, y/n; we could fly your family out for the next LA gig.” Doc says.

“Yeah that’s a great idea Doc.” Nikki replies sarcastically. You can’t help but hide a laugh behind your hand. You’d say something too, but you don’t want to ruin Tommy’s time with his parents by speaking ill of your own.

“Oh guys I want you to meet somebody else.” Tommy says, calling someone over. You suddenly see the expression on Nikki’s face change to one of surprise. He quickly hides his face behind his hair when Roxy walks over, and you instantly know what that means. You feel a hot ball of rage start burning in the pit of your stomach. You swallow, holding it down until the conversation is over and you can get Nikki alone.

“Mom, dad this is Roxy; my fianceé.” Tommy says. Your head snaps to Tommy.

“What?” You can’t help but say out loud. Everyone looks at you. Roxy scowls. You stammer, trying to backpedal. “No sorry I just–I, I hadn’t heard; congratulations.” Roxy looks back at Tommy’s parents.

“Nice to meet you.” She sticks out her hand, which Tommy’s mom grabs, clearly in shock. Roxy quickly takes her hand away, Tommy’s mom still staring at the girl.

“We’re getting married!” Tommy announces with excitement.

“What’s the rush Tom? Marriage is a big decision.” His dad says, clearly disapproving despite his best efforts to try and sound supportive.

“Exactly! You purposed to mom the night that you guys met and she didn’t even speak English. That’s love dude! And that’s what I’ve always wanted! And now that’s what I’ve got.” Tommy says, looking down at Roxy. There was adoration in Tommy’s eyes, but you didn’t see it reflected in Roxy’s. She was using him, and everyone could see it except Tommy; too blinded by his own love. You ground your teeth as you looked at them, but said nothing.

“So, how did you and Tommy meet?” Tommy’s mother asks Roxy, trying to be supportive. She was such a kind woman; nothing like your own mother. You could see now how Tommy turned out the way he did, with such supportive and loving parents.

“Well, I was actually hanging out with this other band but then I met Tommy and it was totally meant to be.” She replies, not putting much effort into selling the emotion behind it; but at least she used the words Tommy liked to hear. He was all about that true love and destined lovers nonsense.

“Oh, I know this word, um–groupie, right? Is that how they call you?” She asks. She acts innocent, as if she doesn’t know what she’s just said, but you have a feeling she knows exactly what’s she said, and you think you may need Tommy’s mom to adopt you now. You laugh through your nose, throwing up your hand to hide the action. Roxy glares over at you, turning on her heels and storming off.

“Mom, that’s not cool.” Tommy says.

“I do not understand, you say this word all the time like it’s the best thing in the world.” She replies.

“Tommy–” You start.

“No, you are not helping.” He says, before chasing off after Roxie.

“Wasn’t really trying to.” You mumble under your breath. You turn back to his parents, who look at each other with worried expressions. You aren’t really sure it’s your place, but you feel like you should say something.

“Look, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” You say, smiling at them. “Tommy likes big romantic gestures and he’s constantly chasing after his dream of finding true love, but he always picks these awful girls. I admit the engagement was a surprise, but this whole scenario’s not new; it’ll all blow over soon.” They glance at each other, then look back at you.

“It sounds like you know Tommy well.” His mother says, smiling.

“I guess so.” You shrug. “Look, all I’m saying is I wouldn’t be shopping for any wedding outfits just yet.” You say, and his father laughs.

“We’ll keep that in mind.” He replies.

You say goodbye to them, more hugs are involved, and quickly make your way across the set. You see your brother talking to Mick. When they see you approaching, they can instantly see you’re pissed.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Nikki asks, looking bored.

“We need to talk. Now.” You say, glaring daggers at him. He stares back at you, saying nothing. Finally, he concedes, silently following you as you lead him to your dressing room.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, practically spitting venom with every word.

“You want a list? Or are we talking in general?” He quips.

“Cut the shit Nikki.” You hiss. “You fucked Tommy’s girlfriend, you asshole!” He scowled at you.

“So?” He replies cooly.

“So? What the fuck do you mean so?” You yell.

“She’s a fucking groupie y/n; who cares if I fuck her?” He spits back.

“Oh I don’t know, how about her boyfriend? You know, your best friend Tommy? He would be fucking heartbroken if he ever found out!” You reply, your own heart aching at the thought.

“Better Tommy break up with that bitch now than marry her! I did him a goddamn favor by exposing her for the cheater she is!” He shouts.

“You know he’s gonna break up with her either way, you fucking prick! Don’t try to make yourself feel better by making up bullshit excuses for sleeping with your best friend’s girlfriend!” You scream.

“You’re the one making up bullshit excuses; acting like you give a shit about that English fuck, when it’s Tommy you really want.” Nikki accuses, pointing a finger at you.

“Oh god, this bullshit again? I can’t believe even you’re buying into that crap.” You say rolling your eyes. “I’m not on trial here, Nikki; but for the record, I don’t want to fuck Tommy. Though you just did, you fucked him good; when you screwed his girlfriend. Oh no, I’m sorry–his finaceé. I bet he’ll ask you to be his best man too; how fun do you think that ceremony’s gonna be, hmm?”

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a long time, neither one of you wanting to speak first. You refused to back down this time; you knew Nikki was in the wrong, and you weren’t sure if you would ever forgive him. No, you knew you couldn’t. Finally, he sighed, breaking the silence.

“So what? You gonna tell him?” He asks quietly.

“No, of course not, don’t be stupid.” You reply, scowling. “I already told you; he’d be heartbroken.”

As much as you didn’t want to hide the truth from Tommy, you also didn’t want to hurt him. You want to protect his heart from ever having to experience the pain of betrayal. You had felt disappointment, sadness, heartache; you never wanted Tommy to feel those things. All his breakups were so superficial, sure they hurt, but only briefly. Nikki betraying him? That would cut deep; deeper then anything he’d ever felt before. He might not ever recover from that. You couldn’t let him feel that, even if it meant betraying him yourself and lying about ever knowing. A small, miserable part of you hated Nikki for putting you in this position; if he hadn’t done this stupid, horrible thing, then you wouldn’t have to lie to Tommy about it. This was Nikki’s fault, not yours. Even if you were lying, you were only doing it to protect Tommy; that didn’t make you a bad person.

Did it?

“So what then?” Nikki asks.

“Look, she’ll be gone soon one way or another; that’s only a matter of time. Hopefully, she won’t say anything about the two of you when she goes, then that will be the end of it.” You explain.” Just, from now on, don’t sleep with you best friend’s girlfriend; which is not something I should need to tell you.” You add, exasperated.

“Uh huh, thanks for the tip.” Nikki says, walking towards the door.

“And Nikki?” You call after him.

“Yeah?” He asks, his hand already on the door handle.

“I’m never going to forgive you for this.” You tell him plainly. There’s a long pause.

“Yeah, I know.” He finally replies, before leaving you alone in the room.


	8. Chapter 8

1984

After your fight with Nikki, the atmosphere on the set of the video shoot had been less than stellar. It’s a wonder you all had managed to finish filming at all.

You were angry at Nikki for what he’d done and for putting you in an awkward position with Tommy, and in turn Nikki was trying to avoid you as much as possible. Then, you felt guilty about keeping the whole thing a secret from Tommy, which made you feel awkward around him; so it was easier for you to just try and avoid him all together if you could.

Tommy was trying to calm Roxy down after meeting his parents, and he was kind of pissed at you for laughing at the whole ‘groupie’ comment his mother had made. Normally you’d be upset about this, but it actually worked out in your favor, since you were trying to avoid him anyway. Still, how long could you keep this up? How long could you keep your distance from your best friend? How long could you lie to him, even if you knew it was for his own good?

The shoot done, you’d all retreated back to the hotel. After a long, hot shower, you called Razzle. You talked to him most nights now; some days it was only a few minutes, just to check in, see how the tour was going, make sure everyone was doing okay before he and his boys went out to party and you and yours did the same. Other times, the two of you stayed on the phone for hours, talking through the night. You had seen the long-distance bills from the hotels when you helped Doc with the paperwork–they were outrageous; but you didn’t care. It was worth it.

You had debated whether you should tell him about what was going on with you and Nikki, just so you could get it off your chest. Normally, if you had an issue like this, you would go straight to Tommy, or in the past Nikki; the fact that they were both at the center of the problem meant you had no one else to turn to. You could talk to Vince or Mick–under normal circumstances you would trust them enough to confide in them, but this issue was delicate; what if something happens and they accidentally told Tommy? You couldn’t risk anyone else close to you finding out and telling him. But then trusting someone new was, for lack of a better word–scary–and you weren’t sure if you were ready to put that level of trust in Razzle yet.

When you called him, you hadn’t really planned on telling him; you were just going to have a normal conversation. But he’d picked up on it immediately; he could tell something was wrong just by the tone of your voice. When he asked you about it, you realized you wanted to trust him, and you decided to take a chance and open up to him.

It felt good to talk. Not just to tell him about the situation, but to tell him how you felt about it. Razzle listened, telling you he honestly wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was, but that he was there for you, and you only had to call if you ever needed anything. Just listening was enough; just being there was enough.

And you really did love him for that.

—

After the shoot, there had been a noticable change in the dynamic of your group. No one wanted to talk about it, but the difference was obvious. You could barely stand to be around Nikki; between your anger at his actions with Roxie and his increasingly rude and inconsiderate behavior towards everyone, you found yourself fighting with him more and more each day.

Then there was Tommy. He and Roxie broke up, so that was one problem solved; but just like he always did after a breakup he was extra clingy with you now that she was gone. He wanted to hang out all the time, and that had caused some problems. For starters, while Roxie may be gone, you were still dealing with the weight of the her secret sex with Nikki, and knowing about it made being around Tommy awkward for you. You tried to suck it up and act like nothing was wrong, but it was obvious something was on your mind, and you wished Tommy would just give you some space so you had more time to process everything.

Then, there was the other issue that had come up between you. You had made it clear to Tommy you needed some time to yourself every once and awhile, and he seemed to agree, in theory. Then, in practice, would still bug you whenever he felt like it. Sometimes, he came to bother you in the middle of your phonecalls with Razzle. The few times this had happened, things had not gone well.

Tommy would insist you hang up and spend time with him. You would of course tell him no, that you would hang out with him later. Usually, he would leave, pouting like a child He would then spend the whole complaining about Razzle, which annoyed you to no end, and you made sure to tell him so, which only pissed him off more, and you two of you would both leave angry.

The last time he came in while you were on the phone, he’d been high, or drunk–or both–and when you refused to hang up he’d come up and done it for you. The two of you got into an argument–something that had never really happened before–and you made him leave, locking him out of your room.

Ever since your fight, Tommy had been walking on eggshells around you. He knew he’d fucked up, but he didn’t know how to fix it. You knew he couldn’t do anything; he’d apologized, but you were still upset. You just wanted to get away from all the drama–from Tommy, from Nikki–where you could relax and you didn’t have to worry if someone was going to yell at you for something or if you were going to get into another argument.

You weren’t essential to the band, it had occurred to you that maybe you could just go home for a week or two; take a little break? The guys wouldn’t love that idea, but no one could argue that things were strained right now. You could use some time apart. You hadn’t been away from them since they’d become a band–you’d all been living together the whole three years since they’d formed Motley Crue. It would be strange to be away from them after being together for so long, but then again some distance was starting to seem like exactly what you needed. And they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder; maybe taking some time apart would help heal the rifts forming in your most important relationships. Even if you didn’t love the idea of being alone, it would be worth it to get away for awhile.

As you drop your bags in yet another empty hotel room, you spot the phone on the nightstand, and an idea suddenly occurs to you. A crazy idea; maybe a great idea, or maybe a totally stupid one. Either way, the boys will absolutely hate it.

You pick up the phone, dialing the number and giving instructions to the receptionist on the other end as you sit on your bed.

“'ello beautiful.” Razzle greets you, and you smile.

“Hey Nic, how’s it going?” You ask, twirling the spiral cord around your finger.

“Not too bad; the boys and I just got back.” He answer.

“Oh, that’s good.” You say, biting your lip, unsure of how to proceed.

“Is everything awlright? You sound upset again.” He asks. “More trouble wif your brotha? Or is it Tommy this time?” You sigh, grateful he brought it up so you didn’t have to.

“Um, well I mean yeah, sort of, but, that’s actually not what I called about.” You say.

“Oh?” He asks. “Do tell.” You take a deep breath.

“I was wondering what you would think about me maybe coming to stay with you?” You ask, nervous. “Just for a little while.” You add hastily at the end.

“You want to come wif me? On tour?” He asks, clearly surprised.

“Yeah; I, I mean if you and the band don’t mind.” You reply.

“Of course I don’t fuckin mind!” He says, clearly excited; and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “But what about the Crue? Won’t they be angry you’re off tourin’ wif another band?”

“I’ll handle the boys.” You assure him, smiling into the receiver.

—

“The fuck do you mean you’re leaving?” Nikki asks as he looks at you, your bags at your feet.

“Exactly what I said; you need it on writing?” You snap.

“Would you stop being a fucking bitch for five seconds and explain to me what the hell you think you’re playing at?” Nikki spits back. “You can’t just fucking leave!”

“Newsflash Nikki; you don’t fucking own me! I can do whatever the hell I want!” You shout, throwing your arms up.

“Okay, okay can everyone just chill out for a second please?” Vince asks.

“Stay the fuck out of this Vince.” Nikki sneers as he looks over at the blonde. “This isn’t any of your fucking business.”

“Don’t fucking yell at him!” You say, scowling at Nikki as he looks back at you.

“We’re gonna get kicked out of the lobby soon.” Mick comments absently.

“Y/N please don’t go.” Tommy begs. “We can talk about this.”

“I’ve made up my mind Tommy.” You say firmly, crossing your arms.

“Where you gonna go, huh?” Nikki asks. “Back home? You live in my house y/n! You can’t go home– won’t allow it!”

“'Allow it?’” You repeat in a mix of anger and disbelief. “God you have been such a fucking asshole lately! What the hell is wrong with you?” You yell back at him, exasperated. “And for your information no, I’m not going home; I’m going to stay with Nic.”

“Nic?” Nikki looks at you confused. Then, he realization spreads across his face. “Oh hoho! You’re going on tour with Razzle and the rest of those fuckers in Hanoi Rocks!”

“What?” Tommy scowls. “You’re going on tour with another band?”

“I’m going to stay with my boyfriend, who is currently in a band that is touring.” You try dodging the question with a half-truth.

Technically Razzle wasn’t your boyfriend yet–but that was only because the two of you didn’t have time to talk about it over the phone before you had to leave to catch your flight. You expected that’s where things were headed though, since you were going to be touring with him now, so it wasn’t a total lie.

“Boyfriend? Since fucking when?” Tommy shouts.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” You snap, taken aback by his sudden change in tone. He had been so desperate and kind a second ago.

“So what? You a fucking groupie now y/n? Huh? You just gonna hop from one band to another whenever it’s convenient for you?” Tommy asks, clearly pissed. You look back at him like you’ve been slapped in the face. You clench your jaw as tears start forming in your eyes.

“Fuck you Tommy.” You whisper, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Y/N–” He calls out to you, but you ignore him; grabbing your bags and heading out the door.

—

You stand outside waiting for your taxi as the tears continue flowing down your face. It was all too much, and as much as you hated people seeing you cry, you just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Nikki was changing. It had been happening for awhile, but you had tried to ignore it; made excuses, played it off. Now there was no denying the truth: the brother you knew, who hurt himself to save you from your mother and her shitty boyfriends, who went hungry so you could eat, who took beating to protect you–he was disappearing. This new Nikki was someone else, someone dark, and controlling. Someone who didn’t care about hurting the people he cared about–even you. You saw less and less of the Nikki you knew everyday, and you worried one day you’d look at your brother’s face and see a stranger staring back at you.

Then there was Tommy. That sweet, simple boy you meet three years ago. Your best friend. There was more to Tommy than that now–maybe there always had been, and you just never saw it. You didn’t understand how Tommy could be so sweet, then act so cruel. You didn’t understand why he got this way about Razzle; it’s like ever since you’d started seeing the other drummer, it had brought out the worst in Tommy.

As you stand under the awning waiting for your taxi, tears still staining your cheeks, you hear the doors to the lobby open behind you. You turn and see Vince and Mick walking toward you. You quickly wipe your face on the back of your arm and smile up at them.

“Hey, sorry you guys had to get stuck in the middle of that.” You say, doing your best to sound cheerful.

“Not the first time we’ve been in the center of a public shitshow; though usually there’s more nudity involved.” Mick says, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. You know he’s trying to cheer you up, and honestly it works. A small giggle escapes your lips.

“We can still fix that if you want to y/n.” Vince says, winking at you. “I’m always down for a little public nudity if you’re involved.”

“I’d like to not get arrested tonight; but thanks anyway Vince.” You say, smirking at him. He shurgs.

“Your loss.” He replies, looking away. After a moment, he looks back at you, a more sincere expression on his face. “By the way y/n, I wanted to say…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at the pavement awkwardly.

“What?” You press. It was unusual for Vince to be at a loss for words. He sighs, then looks back up at you.

“I just wanted to say you shouldn’t listen to Nikki and Tommy–they were being real assholes, and they were wrong.” Your eyes go wide as you stare back at him in shock. You knew Vince and Mick felt bad for you, but you hadn’t really expected them to openly take your side against their bandmates.

“Look, you’re not a bitch, and you’re definitely not a fucking groupie, okay? I mean if you were then I think I got fucking jipped.” He says with a laugh. You’re too surprised to laugh at the joke, not that it was that great to begin with.

“With jokes like that it’s amazing you ever resisted his charms.” Mick comments, and that manages to get a laugh from you. “He is right though; those two were total shitheads and I don’t blame you for wanting to split. You deserve to be happy, and if that frilly English shit makes you happy, then I say go for it.” You’re taken aback by the sincerity in Mick’s words. Vince comes over and puts a hand in your shoulder.

“Look, try not to worry about what Nikki and Tommy said, okay? They’re just pissed because they’re used to having you all to themselves, and they don’t like the idea of having to share you. So go have fun with your English boy toy, and just know we’ll be here if you ever get homesick.” You look back at the two of them, and you feel your heart swell so full it aches.

Nikki and Tommy had been the people you were closest to since the band formed; Nikki was your brother, your rock, your oldest friend. Tommy had quickly grown to be your best friend, your closet companion, the person you trusted most. But you couldn’t forget how much you loved Vince and Mick; they were your brothers just as much as Nikki and Tommy were. You had been through so much with both of them, and just because you were having problems with Tommy and Nikki, you didn’t want to punish Mick and Vince for that.

You feel tears well up in your eyes as you grab hold of Vince, hugging him tightly as you bury your face in the crock of his neck.

“Thanks Vinny.” You say as you squeeze him tighter. “I appreciate it.” You let him go, and his cheeks are flushed as he looks away.

“Yeah, whatever.” He says, and you laugh, whipping your eyes. You move over to Mick and wrap your arms around him.

“Give us a call every once and awhile so we know you’re not dead.” He says, and you laugh as you pull away.

“Yes dad.” You reply sarcastically, and he scowls. You smile, moving to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. His eyes go wide as he stares back at you in surprise. “I promise I’ll call as soon as I get there, okay?” He looks away.

“S'all I’m asking.” He mumbles.

“Hey, why does the old man get a kiss?” Vince whines, and you laugh.

Just then, the taxi pulls up to take you to the airport.

“Well, looks like my ride’s here.” You say, trying to mask your sadness by turning away from thro. You move to get your bags, but Vince grabs them before you can. He winks at you, and silently moves to toss them in back of the taxi.

“It’s not forever; I’ll see you guys again in no time.” You say cheerful as you look at Mick, who just nods in response, looking lonely. You take one quick glance back at the lobby doors, before turning to the taxi.

“Thanks for grabbing my bags Vince; maybe there’s a gentleman buried in there somewhere after all.” You say, smirking.

“Don’t hold your breath sweetheart.” Vince jokes, smiling; though you both feel the sadness behind it. As you pass him, you lean in and give him a quick peak on the cheek. You smile as Vince laughs.

“There, now you’re even.” You say, before getting into the taxi. You shut the door, waving out the back window as you watch the two of them get further and further away.


	9. Chapter 9

1984

You had initially had some reservations about leaving to go on tour with Razzle and the rest of Hanoi Rocks: worried about leaving the boys in Motley Crue, worried about what it would be like to travel with another band you barely knew, worried about where your relationship was with Razzle. However, after being with them for a few days you had found yourself settling in nicely.

You and Razzle hadn’t seen each other since your first night together, and despite talking to each other constantly you were a little nervous to see him again. You tried to tell yourself it was a good thing; butterflies meant you actually liked him, right? You desperately wanted things to work out, but then what if he wasn’t feeling the same way? What if you were like just another groupie to him? You knew that wasn’t true, but of course you couldn’t help but wonder about it all the way to his hotel.

As soon as you laid eyes on him standing in the lobby waiting for you, you felt your heart leap straight through your chest. When he saw you, he smiled brighter than the sun, and you felt all the worry and fear you had melt away.

Things with Razzle had been going well from that moment on. You were officially dating, which was a strange change for you, but honestly you didn’t hate it. Razzle was fun and charming, and now that you could finally spend time together you found yourself wanting to be with him more and more. You spent most of your time with him when he wasn’t performing, and he didn’t seem to mind; just as taken with you as you were with him. You were both so naturally comfortable around each other–it reminded you of how you were with the boys in Motley Crue.

You were so wrapped up with Razzle you had nearly forgotten to call Mick that first night. You kept that conversation brief; simply telling him you’d made it alright and that’d you’d call him again later. After that you tried to call him or Vince in a similar fashion to how you had called Razzle before: any time you made it to a new hotel you’d called and check in, just to see how they were doing and make sure everything was going alright.

Vince and Mick were always happy to hear from you: Mick would make sure you were doing alright, and Vince would want to tell you all about the crazy antics they were getting up to while you were gone. Tommy and Nikki were another story. They had apparently gone on quite a binder after you’d left; pissed off and hurt that you’d ‘abandon’ them for someone else. You and the rest of Hanoi Rocks weren’t sober by any means, but you weren’t going nearly as hard as Motley Crue, and you were worried maybe they were taking things too far.

You had noticed the partying was getting worse before you’d left, but you hadn’t said anything. You trusted them to know when to quit. Maybe you should have tried to say something; maybe encouraged them to cut back a bit. Now they were going harder then ever, and it was your fault. You hated to think about something happening, but you knew Doc was there; surely he’d keep them in line. He wouldn’t let them get too far out of hand.

Surely it wasn’t that bad.

You never talked to Nikki when you called. You asked for him, but he was too stubborn to talk to you. Tommy eventually caved, sheepishly agreeing to talk to you. He apologized for what he’d said, saying he was just upset you were leaving and that he had been scared he was losing you. You admit you were still hurt, but you forgave him–how could you not? He was still your best friend, and being apart from them all made you realize even more just how important they were to you. You missed them all after just a few days apart.

So when the days had turned to weeks and the boys started asking you when you were coming back, you weren’t sure what to say. You missed them all–even Nikki, with his attitude shift over the last few months causing you nothing but grief–but you didn’t want to leave. You were getting along well with the rest of the band, who were treating you like a little sister; and while they liked to party they weren’t nearly as crazy as Motley Crue, and it was kind of nice to be away from that atmosphere for awhile.

The more pressing issue was your ever-growing feelings for Razzle. The more time you spend with him, the more sure you became that you didn’t want to be apart from him. He was already talking about taking you back to London with them when the tour was over, and to your surprise you had eagerly agreed with his plans. You wanted to go; even if part of you was torn.

As much as you found yourself falling for Razzle, you couldn’t deny you missed your boys. If things continued to progress with Razzle and you went with him to London, would you ever come back? Of course, don’t be ridiculous. That’s the thought that would cross your mind, but you already knew Razzle was planning to ask you to move in with him; that would mean you’d rarely get to see the boys. They’d been your whole life for 3 years–Nikki was the only family you had. You wanted to live your life, but could you really leave them behind to do it?

—

December 8, 1984

After Michael had fractured his ankle, Hanoi Rocks had taken a break to let him recover. You had taken them to a Motley Crue show in hopes the bands would become friends–and because you desperately wanted to see the boys. They were excited to see you; even Nikki, who was trying his best to hide it by playing it cool. They mingled with the Hanoi boys, and you made sure everyone had a great time. They all ended up becoming friends by the end of the night; though Tommy still couldn’t seem to get along Razzle.

So when Vince decided to throw a party at his mansion, he made sure to invite them along.

You watch from the living room, drink in hand as Tommy begins talking up the pretty blonde actress. What was her name again? Heather something–whatever, you didn’t even like T. J. Hooker, it was so overrated. You scowl as she flashes him a brilliant, beautiful smile. You feel someone’s arms wrap around your waist from behind, a set of lips press a row of kisses up your neck.

“What are you up to, beautiful?” Razzle’s breath tickle’s your ear and you giggle, turning and wrapping your arms around him.

“Just waiting for you.” You say, smiling at him. He smirks back, before leaning down to kiss you; you can taste the alcohol on his tongue.

“Were you?” He laughs. “It’s a good thing I came and found you then, isn’t it?” He leans down and gives you another quick kiss. You thought about the first night you met Razzle; how he’d come and found you when you were alone that night too.

“Hmm, yeah it is.” You agree, laying your head against his chest. You listened to his heart thumping loudly in his chest, overtaking the noise of the party. He rubbed your back lightly.

“Listen love, I’m just gonna go wif Vince real quick since we’ve run out of beer–but I’ll be back before you know it, yeah?” He says, pulling you back so he can look at you.

“What? Why can’t someone else go?” You pout.

“I’ve already told Vince I’d go; it’ll be fine. I’ll be back soon, and we can pick up right where we left off.” He says, running his finger under your chin. You sigh.

“Alright; just come back soon, okay?” You say, and he smiles.

“Of course; no where else I’d rather be.” He leans down, giving you a quick kiss, then leaves to follow Vince out to the car, the two grabbing at each and laughing as they run out.

With Razzle and Vince gone and Tommy busy, you move through the party looking for someone else to talk to, when you spot Nikki sitting alone on the sofa.

“Surprised to see you slumming it with me instead of hanging with your boyfriend.” Nikki says when you sit down next to him. He snorts a line of coke off a tray that’s sitting on a coffee table in front of you.

“He’s off buying booze with Vince.” You reply flatly. He was obviously trying to pick a fight, but you didn’t want to fight with him right now. You didn’t get to see him enough; if you could avoid fighting with him by ignoring his jabs, you would suck it up and do what you had to do to have a conversation with your brother.

“That explains it.” He replies with a smirk, sniffing as he leans back on the sofa. “So what about Tommy then?”

“He’s busy flirting with some actress.” You say, scowling. Nikki gives you a knowing grin, and you snatch the straw from his hand, moving to the table to take a hit of coke. Nikki chuckles. “What?” You ask as you wipe your nose.

“When are you going to stop all this bullshit and just admit you’re in love with Tommy?” He asks, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Damnit, not this again.” You groan, laying back against the back of the couch. “I’ve told you and everyone else a thousand times before: I don’t have feelings for Tommy, okay?”

“Uh huh, sure you don’t: and I’m the Queen of England.” Nikki jokes.

“Well, your majesty, you can think whatever you want; I’m not in love with Tommy, and that’s all there is to it.” You say, crossing your arms. “Besides, I’m clearly already in a relationship. I’m happy with Nic–I love him. I don’t know why you keep pushing this Tommy crap when I’m literally already in love with someone else.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t; doesn’t change the fact you’re also in love with Tommy. It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to realize it.” Nikki shrugs. You roll your eyes, standing up.

“Whatever Nikki.” You say, walking away.

—

You mingle here and there; talking with Sharise, Mick, the other guys in Hanoi Rocks. Eventually, you settle back on the coach and wait for Razzle and Vince to get back. It’s taking them longer than it should, but you try not to worry; they’ll be back soon.

You keep waiting, but they’re still not back. The party starts to thin out more and more as the night goes on; guests finding rooms to pass out in, people leaving to head home, some finding others to go home with. And still you’re waiting, the dread slowly growing like a cancer in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually the other guys float in one at a time to join you. Mick, then Tommy, and finally Nikki. They all sit with you, the four of you waiting for your friend to come home. No one says a word about it, talking around the subject, afraid that speaking their fears will make them real. The three of them know it’s worse for you; waiting not just for Vince, but for Razzle too. You silently lean your head against Tommy’s shoulder, closing your eyes as he wraps his arm around you.

In the early morning, you see the lights from the police cars shine through the windows, and feel your body grow numb. You suck in a shaky breath, grabbing hold of Tommy’s hand and squeezing with all you have. Each knock on the door echos through the house like the tolling of bells. Your hearts sinks into the pit in your stomach as you watch Sharise open the door, two officers standing on the other side. Mick and Nikki stand up to go to her, but Tommy stays with you on the couch; you can’t move. You can’t breath.

You don’t hear what they say, you just see Sharise go down; Mick catches her before she hits the ground. Nikki looks at you, a mixture of grief and pity spread across his face. He comes back to the sofa, looking down at you.

No, don’t say it. I don’t want to hear. Please.

“Nikki, what’s going on?” Tommy asks, squeezing your shoulder as he holds your hand. Nikki’s eyes dart over to you neevously, before he quickly looks back at Tommy.

“There was an accident.” Nikki replies. “Vince is gonna be okay, but he’s been arrested. The people in the other car are in critical condition. And Razzle…” He looks at you, clenching his fists as he takes a breath. “I’m so sorry y/n. Razzle’s dead.”

You feel the tears on your cheeks without even realizing you were crying. You look at Nikki, clenching your jaw as you shake your head.

“No; no Nikki that’s not–” Your breath was coming faster, even though your lungs felt totally empty. “That’s not right, he was just here.” You whine, Nikki moves to crouch down in front of you, taking your hands. Tommy held you tighter against his side as Nikki looks up at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but he’s gone.” Nikki says calmly. You look down at him, your eyes spilling over with tears.

“No, nonono, please…” You turn your head and bury it in Tommy’s shoulder. He moves to wrap you in his embrace, holding the back of your head as you weep into him.

“I’m so sorry y/n; it’s gonna be okay.” He repeats to you quietly as he gently rocks you in his arms. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m here.”

You hold onto Tommy for dear life, afraid if you let go of him you’ll spiral out of control. It doesn’t feel real; your mind tries to rationalize a million different ways it isn’t true, where he’s alright and you’ll be together and all of this will just be a bad dream. But it hurts too much to be a dream; the pain in your chest worse than anything you’ve ever experienced in your life. You’re vaguely aware of Nikki coming up to sit beside you, his hand on your shoulder as it shakes from the sibs that rack your body.

You sat there and cried for who knows how long. You would become aware of the events of the house; Mick helped Sharise get to her room to rest, then had the unfortunate job of telling Razzle’s bandmates about the accident. You heard them all come through towards the front door, you heard them all stop and stare at you as you cried, felt the pity like a wave crashing into you as they looked at you.

A sad, bitter part of yourself would later wonder if they blamed you for this; if you hadn’t been a part of Razzle’s life, he never would have been there, right? You would understand if they did blame. After all, you did. This was your fault. That’s the thought that echoed in your mind as the tears dried on your cheeks and you finally detached yourself from Tommy.

You introduced him to the boys, your brought him here, you let him go. He was dead and it was your fault.

—

You felt a sickening sense of numbness overtake you after Razzle’s death. People talk at you, but their words sound so far away. Nothing seemed real anymore; like you were floating in a dark sea, just moving from one place to another, never really knowing exactly where you were going next.

You’d gone to see Razzle’s body in the hospital despite protests from the boys. His bandmates were already there when you’d arrived, mourning their loss together. You felt like an intruder; an outsider in their sacred space. But they all came up to you, each of them making sure to comfort you despite they themselves needing comfort. That’s not something you could give them now, your heart so broken you weren’t sure you could even feel anything again.

They told you not to go in; that you should wait until the wake. You’d gone anyway. You told yourself you needed to know for sure, needed to see him for yourself to prove he was really gone. Deep down, you thought maybe you were just punishing yourself for what you’d done.

—

After the hospital, you wanted to do nothing; just keep floating in your darkness, letting the current carry you wherever it may. But you had to pack, had to get ready for the funeral. You were going to London; just thinking about it made you sick. You had been so excited, planning a trip there with Razzle only weeks ago, and now you were heading there alone for his funeral.

You look at the bag of white powder on your nightstand as you zip up your suitcase. You wanted to pack the cocaine that was barely keeping you afloat through this whole ordeal, but you couldn’t risk getting arrested through customs. You would just have to get high before you left and hope the alcohol on the flight would be enough to keep you up until you found something in England.

The coke wasn’t working like it used to; you were taking more and more, but it wasn’t the same high you used to get. You needed something more, something else. You didn’t know what; you just didn’t want to feel this way anymore–tired, depressed, like the whole world was caving in on you. Everything hurt, and it all just felt so pointless now.

—

On the way to the airport, you had the taxi take you to the jail. You hadn’t spoken to Vince since the night of the accident, unsure exactly what you would say, but you didn’t want to leave the country without talking to him.

You sat on one side of a plexiglass wall, staring at the empty seat on the other side. Vince is brought in dressed in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, and is sat down in front of you. Apparently, you were not who he was expecting to see. His eyes go wide as he stares at you from across the glass divider, your face a mask as you look back at him. He looks tired; bags having formed under his normally bright blue eyes, and an ashy sheen to his tanned skin. You probably don’t look much better, your eyes perpetually blood shot and puffy from crying and a lack of sleep.

You move your hand over to grab the telephone attached to the wall, and Vince quickly does the same. He looks at you with pain in his eyes, clearly unsure of what he should say.

“Y/N–” He starts, tears stinging the corner of his eyes.

“Orange looks awful on you.” You cut him off. He looks back at you, dumbfounded. He starts laughing, tears still in his eyes.

“It’s never been my color.” He replies. You stare back at him through the glass. He sighs, “Y/N, what are you doing here?” He looked nervous, like he wanted to know, but was afraid to hear the answer.

“I’m leaving for London today.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. “For Nic’s funeral, and I just, I-I just wanted to see you, before I left. I didn’t want you to think–” You stop, looking away as the tears began sliding down your cheeks. You had gone over how you felt about Vince after the accident a thousand times, and it was always the same.

You knew what had happened was wrong; they never should have left, drunk as they were. It was a stupid mistake. But it was just a mistake; an accident. Razzle had been just as drunk, and you’d let him go, knowing how drunk everyone was at that party–how drunk Vince likely was–and you’d just let them leave. Why should Vince shoulder that mistake alone?

You took a deep breath, a turned back to him.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying I don’t blame you for what happened, Vince.” You say, looking back at him with as much resolve as you can muster.

“Y/N, I, I don’t…” You see tears start to spill out of the corners of his eyes. He looks down at the desk.

“I know, it’s okay.” You say, the first bit of comfort you’ve been able to give since Razzle died. “Listen Vince, I have to go; I just– just wanted you to know, okay?” You say, standing up.

You leave feeling a little lighter than when you came in, though the heaviness inside you still feels too immense to carry alone.


	10. Chapter 10

1984

Razzle’s funeral was the hardest thing you’d ever gone through in your life. Fuck growing up with a shit mom, fuck all her abusive boyfriend’s, fuck living on the streets: nothing could ever come close to comparing to the mess that surrounded your time in London.

To begin with, you were a wreck; emotionally you teetered from totally numb to absolute hysterics, which were only amplified by the drugs and alcohol. Then, you had to try and keep it together while you traveled to the other side of the world–somewhere you were supposed to go with Razzle–just so you could watch them put him in the ground. As if that weren’t bad enough, you had to met his family for this first time; feeling like an outsider and a fraud while they all tried their best to welcome you with open arms.

Didn’t they know this was all your fault?

Apparently some people did. You were met with paparazzi as soon as you landed–not something you personally dealt with often. You did have some minor celebrity status at this point: You were Nikki Sixx’s sister, you partied with Motley Crue a lot, you were supposedly a budding ‘video vamp’ after staring in their last music video that had blown up on MTV, and since you were already somewhat known, being tied to another rockstar gave you some weight. Still, you were not expecting to be met with a swarm of cameras as soon as you touched down.

Then came the questions.

‘Ms. Sixx any thoughts on Mr. Neil’s hearing?’

'Will the accident effect the future of Motely Crue?’

'Ms. Sixx; do you blame Vince Neil for the death of your boyfriend?’

'Do you think Mr. Neil got off to easy with his sentencing?’

'Ms. Sixx, how does it feel knowing one of your closest friends killed your boyfriend?’

'Y/N, was Razzle the one?’

You pushed your way through the crowd of reports, running into the first taxi you could find, shaking and crying as you laid down on the back seat. It had been so long since you’d had a panic attack–the drugs keeping them at bay–but you had one there, alone in the back of a strange car, in a strange country, the rain beating lightly in the windows. You thought about Razzle, then Tommy, then Nikki–you thought about all your friends, and how you wished you weren’t so alone.

The paparazzi had hounded you through most of your short visit. They kept their questions the same; always asking about Vince and Razzle and how you felt about it all–like they actually gave a shit. You tried to ignore them, focused on getting through the funeral and getting home as fast as possible. You called Nikki some, but he had apparently started doing smack some time after you’d left, and seemed to be more interested in shooting up than anything else. A few weeks ago you would have tried to stop him from using heroin, but now you had no right to tell anyone not to chase a high.

You couldn’t even remember who it was that first gave them to you. Someone at the wake maybe? Or the reception after? Someone trying to help you at least–seeing the pain in your eyes, the lack of sleep, the hopelessness. Someone who wanted to make you feel better.

And you felt so much better.

The pills were easy to get–they were legal after all. Doctors were practically handing them out like Halloween candy. And they made all the pain melt away. It’s like you’d never hurt in the first place. You took the pills–or even better, snorted them–and slipped into a euphoric state you could only describe as pure bliss. In those moments, you found happiness again, and you weren’t planning to let them go without a fight.

—

1985

You were tripping out on the couch in the studio, laying with your head in Mick’s lap as he drank straight from a bottle of Vodka. Nikki was drinking Jack as he sat with his bass–also high–and Tommy, drunk off his ass, smashed his head straight into his drumset, making you laugh and roll your face into Mick’s abs. Nothing was getting done, but you hadn’t really expected it to; work on the new album had been going at a snail’s pace ever sense Vince got out three months ago. No one wanted to talk about it, but everyone was a wreck.

Not like you were any better.

Tommy moves over to the piano and starts playing the melody to their new song.

“That’s real pretty Tommy.” You say, smiling as you close your eyes. He stops, moving over to the couch as Vince walks in.

“Thanks.” He replies, lifting up you legs so he can sit under them.

“Yo.” Vince says, standing awkwardly in front of everyone.

“Hey Vinny.” You say, trying your best to smile at him. The tension the room was obvious. It had been this way ever sense…well, it had been this way for awhile.

“I got the lyrics.” Nikki says, handing Vince a sheet of paper. “I made a couple of adjustments. I think you may like them.”

“Home Sweet Home?” Vince asks, looking at the lyrics in his hand.

“It’s been too long buddy.” Nikki replies. “Here, have a bump with me.” You sit up straight and look over at your brother approving stare.

“I just got out of fucking jail.” Vince replies, looking grim. Nikki looks at the three of you sitting on the couch. Mick and Tommy look away, but you glare back at him. Vince, not wanting to look like an ass, goes over and does the line while Nikki asks Mick to show him the melody.

It’s clear right away that something’s wrong. Vince runs to the trashcan and starts throwing up.

“The fuck was that?” Vince says as he retches.

“That was smack.” Nikki replies, completely unbothered by what he’s just done. Tommy laughs as Vince continues to vomit. Mick scowls and shacks his head in disapproval.

“You really think that’s funny Nikki?” You ask, glaring at your brother. He just rolls his eyes at you.

“You guys slip me smack and I’m the fucking problem?” Vince asks when he’s finished throwing up. He comes over and kicks the table, causing you all to jump as beer bottles spill onto the floor.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I’m a monster. I killed Razzle–it could have happened to any one of you!” He yells, looking over at them with anger and pain in his eyes.

They hadn’t brought it up since he’d gotten out, and you knew it was eating away at the group. But you didn’t want them to talk about it like this. You feel tears slide down your cheeks and take in a shaky breath as you look away.

“I’m sorry y/n.” Vince says, before running out.

“Nice job Nikki.” Mick comments tartly. You throw your hand over your mouth as you begin to sob.

—

1985

You were back on tour, and all you could say was it was a mixed bag.

It felt good to be back on the road with the boys. It felt like a homecoming–like it was exactly where you belonged. Things were different this time, but at least the five of you were all back together again, right where you should be.

It also felt good to have something to focus on that wasn’t Razzle. The tour and the partying was all the more reason to drown yourself in booze and pills. You tried every night to forget how much pain you were in, and it worked–until you woke up the next morning, hung over and needing another hit. It felt worth it for those few precious hours of happiness.

You told yourself it was worth it.

Then, there were the shitty parts of the tour.

Vince was drifting away from the band. You could feel it. He was there, but not like he had been before. It scared you to think something might happen one day and Vince might decide to leave. You’d already lost Razzle–you didn’t want to lose anyone else. The band was all you had, you couldn’t lose them too.

The there was Nikki–his heroin addict getting worse by the day. You had the good sense to hid your drug use from the boys; none of them having any idea you were even doing Oxi’s. But Nikki was sinking deeper into the pit with his heroin use. You were starting to worry about how much he was using, but you weren’t sure how to approach him; afraid confronting him might reveal more about your own drug use than you wanted them to know.

Last on the list of things that were pissing you off to know end was Tommy and his new girlfriend–no sorry, Fianceé–Heather. Every time he talked about her you wanted to vomit, which was unfortunate because he talked about her constantly. You hated feeling this way, but you absolutely could not stand her or their relationship. And initially you couldn’t figure out way.

By all accounts it didn’t make sense. For years you had watched Tommy get with shitty girl after shitty girl, knowing none of them would ever work out. All that time you had wanted nothing more than for Tommy to find someone that was actually worthy of his love and affection, who actually loved him back.

So now that he actually had that, why did it bother you so much? Why did you hate her with every fiber of your being? You should be grateful to her for being a good girlfriend to your best friend. You should be happy that Tommy’s finally found the true love he’s always wanted.

But you weren’t.

You knew you should be a supportive and caring friend, just like Tommy always had been for you. But you couldn’t. You thought about sitting there and watching Tommy marry that girl, and felt like your heart was being crushed into a million pieces.

And that’s when you realized it must be because you couldn’t have that for yourself–because you had missed out on your own chance at happiness, with Razzle.

That had to be why you felt this way. There was no other explanation. You knew that it was awful. You knew you were being selfish and bitter. So you tried to play it off–acted like you were happy for him, act like you liked Heather and you were excited for the wedding. You wanted nothing to do with any of it, but what could you do? Tell you best friend you didn’t want to go to his wedding because watching him marry the love of his life just reminded you of everything you’d lost? No, you couldn’t do that to Tommy–even if watching him with that girl did make your heart ache with every beat.

—

Christmas, 1985

You and Nikki stand in an elevator with Doc, heading down to meet this visitor of his. Nikki takes a drink from the bottle of Jack in his hand before he offers it to you. You’re hungover, so you grab it and take a quick swig. Hair of the dog, you think, hoping you don’t puke. You silently hand him the bottle back and wipe your mouth on your sleeve.

The three of you step out of the elevator and Doc leads you forward.

“Your mother called and asked to come to a show. So, I thought with it being the holidays and all…” Doc says, gesturing his arm out into the lobby. You and Nikki both look and see Dianna–your mother–stand and smile at you. You both freeze as she puts her arms out, coming over to embrace Nikki.

“Marry Christmas Frank.” She says, holding Nikki in her arms.

“That’s not my name.” Nikki says as he goes stiff as a board. You stand there, staring at them wide-eyed. Nikki doesn’t know what to do; you can tell he’s conflicted. He hates her, he always has, but you know part of him wants to hug her back–he wants to believe she really loves him. Of course he does. Part of you has always wanted that too.

“Oh, that song–the one about looks that kill?” She starts, pulling away from him. “It’s about me, isn’t it Frankie?” He steps away from her, the spell broken. “Frankie?”

“That’s not my fucking name!” He shouts, throwing the bottle of Jack on the floor before storming off. Doc following right on his heels. You watch them walk away, but stay were you are.

“He stopped being your son the day we left.” You say, she looks back at you–the first time she’s even acknowledged you were there.

“I just wanted him back in my life.” He says, her eyes welling up with tears. Yeah, you wanted him. You think bitterly.

“Bullshit. You just want him now that he’s rich and famous.” You reply, venom in every word. “But Nikki doesn’t need you, Dianna–we’ve never needed you. So why don’t you fuck off back to whatever hole you crawled out of, because Nikki doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing.”

“Y/B/N, I’m your mother–how can you be so cruel to me?” She asks, looking at you like she’s genuinely hurt.

“Because last time Nikki had to protect me–now it’s my turn to protect him.” You reply, turning your back on her. “And that’s not my fucking name.”


	11. Chapter 11

May 10, 1986

It's really happening.  
You sat in the back room watching Tommy in his all-white suit pace around nervously as he attempts to tie the collar on his flashy ruffled dress shirt. You take a long drink from your bottle of Jack Daniels as you eye the smile on his face. He was so happy, and yet as hard as you tried–and you had tried–you just couldn't be happy for him.

"She's really gonna marry me huh?" He asks as he goes to look at himself in the mirror, still fumbling with his collar. "This isn't some kind of sick joke, is it?"

"Life's a sick joke." Mick replies with a laugh. You laugh along with him, throwing up your hand to give him a quick high-five. You and Mick were on the same page today: drunk and bitter.

Watching Tommy mess with the knot was getting old, and finally you couldn't take it anymore. You stand up and walk over to him, the fabric of your dress swishing lightly as it hugs your body. You smack his hands away, untying his sad attempt at a bow and redoing it properly.

"Thanks y/n, what would I do without you?" He asks, looking down at you as his shoulders relax.

"Get married to a beautiful movie star looking like a total slob?" You reply, not looking up at him.

"Hehe, yeah–but you know you do more than that." He says, trying to be sincere. But you don't want to hear it. Everything about today hurt. You didn't want to be bitter and ruin Tommy's big day, but sincerity and sentimentality were the last things you wanted to hear from him right now.

"Yeah, yeah–let me get drunk on your tab and we'll call it even." You reply, dodging his attempts to get you to open up.

"Babe, you're already drunk." Vince says, smirking at you from behind his sunglasses as he leans back in his chair. He was drunk too–you all were, except Tommy of course, who was probably the closest to sober he'd been in the five years since you'd met.

"But I could always be drunker." You say, and he tips is drink at you in agreement as he smiles.

"Okay, okay I need you guys to be cool today–I don't want to embarrass Heather with any of our usual shit." He says, smiling as he looks at over at the three of you.

"Yeah, she's already pissed enough that you made me a groomsmen–I don't want to give the princess any more reason to hate me today." You reply, a little more attitude slipping out in your voice than you mean.

"She doesn't hate you y/n–she just thinks it's a little weird to have a girl be one of my groomsmen. I mean it's right there in the name–groomsmen." He counters, gratefully missing your harsher tone as he smiles over at you.

"Uh huh." You answer back, moving over to take another drink from your half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

It's not that you didn't want Tommy to be happy–of course that's what you wanted. And while Heather wasn't really the same breed as the rest of you, it should have been enough that Tommy loved her–and that she actually loved him back. Sure, she wasn't as cool and fun to hang out with as Sharise was, but at least Tommy was marrying his dream girl. He was finally getting what he'd always wanted.

Something you knew you'd never have.

You hated begrudging Tommy for finding his happiness just because you'd lost yours, but you couldn't help how you felt. Watching them together made you sick to your stomach, and now that you were here, the ache in your chest was only getting worse.

Maybe it was the idea that one day, this could have been you and Razzle–it would have been Razzle nervously getting ready with his boys, while your boys helped you get ready somewhere because you have zero female friends to be bridesmaids and who the hell cares about tradition anyway? It would have been a rock and roll wedding–fuck tradition.

"Hey, what time is it. I think we should get out there." Tommy says. "Hey Nikki, let's hit it." He looks over at your brother, who you'd half forgotten was even in the room. He was laid out on one of the couches, sunglasses on. Even for Nikki, he looked like hell.

"Yo best man let's go I've got a wife waiting." Tommy calls over to Nikki, who remains motionless. He's totally passed out. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Tommy says as he moves over to Nikki's spot on the other side of the room. "Hey Nikki–wake up asshole." He says as he slaps Nikki's face, pulling his sunglasses up.

"What the fuck dude?" Nikki asks in a groggy voice. Tommy glares down at him as the rest of you watch on in silence, not wanting to get involved. Nikki sits up, looking like shit. "I'm good. It's all good." He says, motioning his arms in the air.

"You are most definitely not all good man, but whatever, just clean up–hey!" Tommy runs over to grab Nikki by the biceps after he trips over a small coffee table filled with snacks. "Get your shit together! I don't want Heather to be embarrassed, okay?"

"I'm embarrassing? Cool." Nikki asks, his speech slurred. Tommy looks at him and scoffs, looking away.

"Nikki..." You cut in, trying to keep the peace. As much as you hated every second of this day, you didn't want your brother ruining it for Tommy.

"No no, it's fine y/n." Nikki says, his eyes glazed over. He looks back at Tommy. "Let's go marry your fancy ass TV chick in this fancy ass hotel–"

"Hey, are you really gonna do this on the happiest day of my life asshole?" Tommy cuts Nikki off, clearly having lost patience with him.

"The happiest day of your life? No, the happiest day of your life was when I let you join my band."

"Nikki stop it." You say sternly, moving over to stand by your brother. You grab his arm and he looks down at you like he's going to argue. "Please, just stop." You repeat quietly, giving him a pleading look.

"Should I get someone else to stand up there with me or what?" Tommy asks.

"Don't look at me man." Vince says.

"I'll do it drummer." Mick offers, slowly standing up. Nikki looks back down at you and sighs.

"I-I've already got the fucking rings, let's just go." He says. Tommy looks back at him, anger spread across his face, before he storms out of the room. Mick and Vince cast you both a quick glance before they hurry to follow him out.

Tommy moves to put on his suit jacket, but struggles with the arms. You silently move to help him, putting it on him one arm at a time like you would with a child.

"This is getting out of control Nikki." You say as he turns around. You catch him as he stumbles forward.

"I'm fine." He replies, not looking at you.

"No, you're not." You state matter-of-factly, though it's one thing you wish you weren't right about. You smooth out the front of his suit jacket. "I can't believe you're shooting up here of all places–at your best friend's wedding." He laughs, but there's no humor behind it.

"Oh don't give me that holier-than-thou bullshit y/n–how many pills have you taken today, huh?" He asks, smirking at you. You freeze, your breath caught in your throat as you stare striaght at Nikki's chest. You didn't think any of the boys knew about you taking pills, how had Nikki found out? "A druggie recognizes a druggie. Besides, we live together y/n–you could only hide it for so long."

"Do the others know?" You ask, stepping away from him as you hugged your arms around yourself. He shook his head.

"No, and I'll keep it that way, as long as you don't hassling me about the smack." He replies.

"But Nikki, just look at yourself, I mean you're killing yourself–"

"And you're not? You never say how many you've had today. Tell me, how many pills does it take to dull the pain of watching the man you love marry someone else?" He asks.

"That's not–I'm not upset because of Tommy, okay? It's not, it's never been like that. It hurts because of Razzle. That's all. And anyway that's not what this is about! It's not the same, I'm not like you–I'm fine." You hurriedly attempt to defend yourself.

"I'm fine! I'm not going to take it too far–I know what I'm doing!" He yells, then he sighs. "So you're fine, I'm fine; why don't we just agree to stay the fuck out of each other's business from now on, hmm?" He asks, walking towards the door. He opens it, gesturing for you to walk out.

You know if you leave now that'll be the end of it–you'll be agreeing to Nikki's terms. You leave his drug problem's alone and pray he doesn't take things too far, and in exchange he'll leave you and your drugs alone–and he won't tell the others about it. You knew you didn't have a problem–they were just helping you get by, helping you cope with Razzle's death, it was fine–but you didn't want the boys to worry about it. About you. They just wouldn't understand what you were going through.

Without a word, you left the room, Nikki following close behind you.

\---

The wedding was awful. Sure it was beaiful–tons of famous people, gorgeous location, great food–but you hated every second of it. You barely managed to make it through the ceremony without breaking down. You were already feeling upset about the whole ordeal, and the drama with Nikki hadn't helped. You had tried not to take as many Oxi's that day, not wanting to be too high to remember anything, but as soon as the formal part was done you slipped away to the nearest bathroom, crushing up a pill so you could snort it, feeling it hit your bloodstream hard and fast.

The rest of the night was a blur. You drank and partied and had as much fun as you could. Nikki was a wreck, and you mostly just ignored him the rest of the night. Mick and Vince were both drunk at least, but Vince had to head home with Sharise and Skyler so he couldn't party too hard, and Mick hated crowds so he was gone pretty quick. Tommy of course was the man of the hour, and had a beautiful wife to shower all of his attention on–meaning he had no time to spend with you. While the whole thing had made your heart ache when you had been more sober, now it just pissed you off.

With all your boys out of play, you had to find new ones to party with. Eventually settling on the guys from Ratt. They were friends of the boys and you'd partied with them before, so at least they weren't strangers. You weren't really looking for anything other than people to have a good time with–though if you were honest, all you really wanted was to not be alone.

You were one of the last up to your room, absolutely wasted and feeling more alone than ever. You barely manage to get your dress unzipped before falling into the bed, your eyes landing on the phone sitting on the nightstand. It made you think about Razzle, and all your late night calls on the road. For the first time that day, your eyes began to water. You start to cry as you silently wish for all the things your heart yearned for.

I wish Razzle was here.  
I wish I wasn't so alone.  
I wish I felt better.  
I wish Tommy was here.  
Then, somewhere in your drunk, drug-adled mind, the wish that would haunt you suddenly blooms to life.

I wish it had been me.  
You sit up, tears still streaming down your cheeks as you try to process what you'd just though. Why had you thought that just now? Your mind was scrambling to bury the thought only seconds after thinking it, but it was too late; the floodgates were open, and you were suddenly hit by the wave of feelings you couldn't deny.

I wish it had been m–I wish it had been me Tommy married today.  
You felt sick, more tears falling to the floor as you cradled your head in your hands. All these years, had you been in love with Tommy? Been in love with him, and just never realized it? Your relationship started out so rocky, and you didn't even know how to have friends back then. Things developed slowly between you as friends until you were inseparable, but you never once thought it was anything more than that. But the more you thought about it–about him–the more you were sure.

You were in love with Tommy.  
That's why you were such a wreck about the wedding. Every other relationship Tommy had before Heather wasn't built to last; you knew they'd all end one way or another. But she was different. He was in love with her, and she actually loved him back. That's why you hated her, why you'd never been okay with them getting married. It wasn't because you were bitter about your own happiness being stolen from you; it's because you were jealous, and you had just been too blind to see it. Nikki was right all along.

If only you hadn't figured it out a day too late.

\---

December 23, 1987

You sat at home, flipping through the TV as you downed a bottle of Jack alone. Nikki had gone out to a party with some of his friends–Slash, Steven Adler, and Robbin Crosby. You liked them all well enough, particularly the guys from Guns N Roses, who you'd gotten to know pretty well over the last year, but you didn't really feel like watching them all shoot up tonight.

So you sat alone, like you did most nights, and drank. You knew the guys were all home, you could probably call them if you really wanted company, but why bother them? Vince had a family, Mick liked his space, and Tommy–

Tommy  
You took a hit of the Oxi's you'd crushed up on the coffee table in front of you. Leaning back, you lounge against the soft leather and close your eyes, letting the high wash over you. You tried not to think about being alone. You tried not to think about Tommy.

You wanted more than anything to take it all back. The realization you'd had a year and a half ago about your feelings for him. He went from being your best friend, the person you trusted most, the one you went to for everything and felt the most comfortable around–to being an unrequited love, the one you could never have, someone you had so close, but could never have close enough. It was torture realizing what he really meant to you when he was no longer free to be yours, and now you had to pretend as if everything was exactly the same when inside you felt like everything had changed.

You wished with all your heart you could go back to your blissful ignorance. Go back to when you truly believed you didn't love Tommy and you only saw him as a friend. It was so much simpler then. So much easier to be around him and not feel like your heart might burst every time he laughed, or to not feel like a total fool because suddenly you had to relearn how to act around him.

Not that you spent nearly as much time around him now anyway. Being married took up a lot of his free time. Heather was a busy woman after all, and she often dragged Tommy here and there to show him off. You couldn't really blame her for that–you would too, in her position–but it meant he had less time to spend hanging out with you. You couldn't help noticing she seemed less inclined to letting Tommy hang out with you in general, but that didn't mean she could completely keep you apart.

Still, you saw less of him, and when you did see him you were constantly reminded of the fact that you were totally in love with him. It was better now–not as weird or awkward for you as it had been the first few weeks trying to adjust to the revelation–but the dull ache never really went away. You would always feel it when he was around, a vice on your heart that would tighten whenever he'd laugh, or when he'd smile at you, or whenever you'd touch.

So no, you wouldn't call Tommy. Or Vince, or Mick. You wouldn't call anyone. You'd sit there. Alone. Getting wasted and watching TV until you passed out, or the cocktail of toxins inside you decided they didn't want to play nice, and you'd find yourself spending the night on your bathroom floor.

You go into the kitchen to grab more booze when the phone rings. Strange for this time of night, but you answer, thinking it's probably just Nikki having gotten into some trouble.

"Hello?" You answer, holding the handset with your shoulder as you move around the kitchen, stretching the long, spiral cord along behind you as you go.

"Y/N? Y/N are you alright?" It's Tommy. His voice is shaky, and you instantly know something's wrong.

"Tommy? Yeah I'm fine. What's going on?" You ask, putting down the bottle you were holding and grabbing hold of the phone.

"Listen, um, I just–I'm coming over, okay?" He replies. He sounds like he's been crying.

"What, why?" You ask, getting more concerned. "What's going on Tommy? Did something happen?"

"We can talk about it when I get there. Just sit tight, I'll be there soon. Please, please don't do anything before I get there, okay?" He begs, "I'm leaving now, I'll be there soon." He repeats before the line goes silent.

Don't do anything? What did that mean? Do anything about what?

You move back into the living room, unopened bottle of Jack Daniels in your hand, and try not to worry about Tommy's ominous phonecall. You open the bottle and begin flipping through the channels again, trying to find something to watch to distract you while you wait for Tommy.

Your hand freezes over the buttons as you see a headline flash across the screen, the voice of the report flooding the otherwise quiet room.

"We've received unconfirmed reports that Motley Crue bassist Nikki Sixx has died in Hollywood this evening of an apparent drug overdose, we'll continue to..."  
The voice on the TV was drown out by the growing ringing in your ears as you sat, frozen in place. You watch video clips of Nikki play as the numbers '1958-1987' were shown on screen. You were vaguely aware of a phone ringing close by, but you don't care. All you can do is stare at the screen. At Nikki. At those fucking numbers.  
No, not again. You can't go through this again.  
You feel sick, your breath picking up as the weight of the news starts to hit you. Your brain goes into defensive mode, just like before, and you try to rationalize. You had just seen him a few hours ago. He was fine. This was Nikki, your big brother, he's always fine. He told you he could handle it. He's always been strong enough to handle anything. He would never–he couldn't–the TV was wrong. Nikki wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He wasn't–

Those fucking numbers.  
You pick up the bottle of Jack and throw it at the TV. It busts open, shattering the glass of the bottle and the screen and sending debris everywhere. You stand there, shaking and panting as you stare at the mess. Before you even realize it you're screaming, picking up bottles and glasses and anything else you can reach and throwing them against the walls, breaking them into pieces.

Nikki can't be gone. He can't be.  
Another bottle breaks against the wall.

We were in this together!  
You flip the glass coffee table and it shatters on the floor.

Why does everyone I love leave me?  
You're crying now, sobs shaking your body as fall to the floor, franticly searching through the broken glass of the table looking for your drugs. You just wanted to take the pain away. Make it all go away, like you tried to do with Razzle. Even though deep down you knew it'd never really leave you, you tried to bury it under layers of drugs and booze. You tried, but it was never enough, and it never would be.

You cut your hands on the razor-sharp glass, blood dripping out onto the carpet, but you keep digging. Looking for the thing to try and make the pain go away. But there wasn't a drug on the planet that could numb you enough to make you forget why you were hurting, and you knew it.

"Y/N?" You scramble up, stepping on the broken glass with your bare feet as you rise; though you hardly register the pain. Tommy's standing in the doorway, looking at you with concern. His eyes are red and puffy as he looks around the room. "Jesus..." He starts to move toward you and you step back like a frightened animal, your feet crunching onto more broken glass as you move. You shake as your bloody hands move up to grip the fabric around your stomach, watching him as he looks back at you. He stops moving, holding his hands up as his eyes dart around, trying to think of what to do next.

"Y/N, it's alright. It's just me. It's Tommy." He soothes, making another attempt to get close to you. You don't know why you're so scared. Maybe it was some ingrained childhood fear of being in trouble–you'd made a mess, and now you would be punished for it. Except the only person who could really be mad at you was Nikki, and he was...

"Tommy." You call to him in a weak voice as you feel your legs give out. He rushes over to catch you before you land in the glass, scooping you up in his arms in one quick motion and carrying you out of the mess of the living room, up the stairs to your bedroom.

You sob into his chest as he gently places you down onto the bed. He sits down next to you, holding you as you cry.

"Tommy, Nikki–Nikki is–" You can barely manage to form words as you cry into his shoulder. He squeezes you tighter, his hand moving up to cradle your head.

"I know, I know y/n." He says, his voice shaky. He's barely keeping it together. You can tell he wants to cry too; he's only holding back for you. So he can comfort you. That thought worms it's way in between all the haze and it makes you even more upset. You were depriving Tommy his time to grieve because he wants to be there for you.

"I'm sorry Tommy. I'm sorry." You sob, clutching Tommy's back with a bloody, steel grip.

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault y/n." He says, gently smoothing the hair on the back of your head.

"Yes it is. I knew–I knew how bad he was getting and I didn't try to stop him. I knew and I didn't..." You let out another round of sobs into Tommy's shoulder.

"We all knew Nikki was using, that doesn't mean we could have stopped him. Even if you had tried he wouldn't have listened." Tommy said, trying to calm you down.

"You don't know that!" You shout, sitting up to look at him. "And I knew! I knew more than any of you how bad it was, and I let it go because I was scared–I was a fucking coward and now my brother's dead." You move your hand up to you mouth to cover another sob, only then remembering you'd hurt yourself on the glass. Tommy grabs your wrists.

"Shit y/n, we need to take care of this." He says as he looks over your bloody hands with concern.

"No." You say, yanking your hands back. "No, I-I want to go to the hospital."

"What?" He asks, looking confused.

"For Nikki." You clarify, scooting to the edge of the bed. Your feet were bloody too, but not as bad as your hands.

"Y/N, don't you think that can wait? At least until we take care of–"

"No!" You reply, turning your face away from him as you look down at the ground. "I, I have to go–I need to." Tommy scoots up behind you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Okay, I understand." He says, before slowly letting go. It feels colder without him. He moves around so he's kneeling in front of you, lightly grabbing your fingers so he doesn't hurt your hands. "But you have to let me help first, okay? Then I'll take you, I promise." You look down at him and nod silently.

He moves to the bathroom to get some towels and rubbing alcohol, grabbing your tweezers off the counter in case he has to dig out any small pieces of glass. He comes back in and gets to work, starting with your hands. Cleaning them off with the alcohol, checking for any noticable pieces of glass, then patting them dry. The cuts weren't too bad for the most part, there had just been a lot of blood. He moves on to you feet and repeats the same actions.

"Y/N? Tommy? Are you guys okay?" You here Vince's voice as he approaches from the hall. He rushes in and sees the mess of bloody towels laying on your bed. He looks at you, then Tommy, who just shakes his head as he stands. Vince sighs, looking down. He seems relieved, and you realize the mess downstairs probably scared him when he came in. "Mick's here too. He's downstairs." Vince says, looking over at you. His face is red from crying. You hated seeing them all cry.

The four of you head to the hospital, Vince drives, Mick riding shotgun with you laying on Tommy in the backseat. Since he'd gotten married you tried not to be this close with him, but tonight you didn't care. You needed to be near him.

When you pulled up to the hospital, the four of you were swarmed by paparazzi. You were instantly reminded of Razzle's funeral. These vultures were here to profit of your brother's death, just like they tried to do with Razzle. They were scum, and you hated every single one of them.

The boys help to usher you into the building as lights flash and questions are thrown. Once you're in, your body shaking from the stress, you feel Tommy's hand on the small of your back. That simple touch is enough to get your feet moving again, guiding you forward towards the reception desk.

"May I help you?" The nurse behind the desk asks, looking the four of you over.

"M-my name is y/n Sixx–I'm Nikki Sixx's sister." You reply, not sure what else you're supposed to say in these situations. Her eyes go wide.

"Oh, of course! We've been trying to reach you but you're phone's been busy all night." She replies.

"Busy?" You say to yourself. Oh shit. You must have knocked the phone in the living room of the stand when you were having your fit earlier.

"Mr. Sixx's room is 405. The elevators are just down this hall to the left." She says, pointing down a hallway.

"His room?" Mick asks. "What the hell do you mean his room?"  
"Are you saying Nikki is...?" Tommy asks, a mix of fear and hope in his voice.

"Nikki Sixx is alive." The nurse confirms.

Whether it be from the news, the blood loss, or some combination of both, you feel the world spin as everything suddenly goes dark.


	12. Chapter 12

January 1988

Nikki was dead.

Or he had been; Nikki had been legally dead for two whole minutes before the paramedics had given him two shots of adrenaline to bring him back. The heroin had nearly taken Nikki away from you–away from all of you–and if he'd really died you never would have forgiven yourself for letting your own addiction get in the way of trying to save your brother.

After you found out Nikki was alive, you'd fainted in the lobby of the hospital. The shock, your own drug use, and the blood loss mixing together to knock you out. Luckily, you weren't out long, and you were back up in time to stop Nikki from trying to leave the hospital–which he was in the process of doing when you all got to his room.

You had been so overcome with emotion when you saw him you didn't know whether you should hug him and never let go, or pick up the nearest blunt object and finish the job the heroin had started. He looked like shit, and you decided beatings him to a pulp could wait, chosing instead to cry all over him as you held him as tight as you could. You couldn't even bring yourself to lecture him then, all you could manage was crying as you clung to him, your emotions overtaking you.

Nikki made it home from the hospital and it was decided–with his involvement–that he needed to go to rehab and get clean. But in order to do that, you all had to get clean. You'd been drinking and doing drugs since you were a kid, and you'd been going harder and harder since the band formed. To make it worse, since Razzle's death you had needed the drugs and the booze just to get through the day.

How were you supposed to give that up?

—

You stood in front of the rehab center, Nikki by your side. You'd already used today, and drank, breaking the rules before you'd even gotten into the facility. You knew it was going to be hard, you'd tried to quit the day Nikki ODed, but you hadn't realized just how hard it would be to stop. You kept telling yourself you'd stop tomorrow, then the next day, then the next day–until you'd just said 'fuck it' and said you'd stop when you got to rehab. That's what you're paying them for anyway, right?

You look up at the building looming in front of you, your nerves sending your stomach into somersaults. More cars pull in. Next to yours. Mick shows up, then Vince with Sharise and Skyler there to see him off, and finally Tommy, with Heather by his side.

You feel your chest ache as you watch the two of them together. She throws her arms around him, pulling him down into a long, passionate kiss as she looks into his eyes, telling him how much she loves him, and how much she'll miss him. You turn away, not being able to stomach it anymore. You feel Nikki's hand wrap around yours and you look up at him in surprise. He smiles at you, lightly bumping his shoulder into yours.

It's the first glimpse of the real Nikki you've seen in so long–the drugs having slowly turned him into someone else, someone dark and angry. As Nikki looked down at you now, trying to support you–knowing full well what you were feeling as you looked over at Tommy and Heather–you could see the old Nikki in his tired eyes.

That, more than anything, gave you the strength you needed to move forward with what had to do. Whether he realized it or not, in that one small, simple gesture, Nikki had just given you something you needed; something you hadn't had in a long time: Hope.

Hope that you could get your brother back. Hope that there was a future. Hope that maybe you could get better.

You sigh, looking down at the ground. You look back up at Nikki, squeezing his hand tightly.

"It's gonna be alright y/n." He says, a smile on his tired face. You smile back. You believe him, because it's Nikki, your big brother, and Nikki's always right.

—

You sat in the cafeteria, chin resting in your hand as you poked at your food with your fork. The boys all sat around you, looking just as shitty as you felt, the withdraw was starting to get to you all, though you and Nikki were clearly feeling it the worst.

The first few days had been the hardest–not even being able to leave your bed as you writhed in pain. You didn't think you could feel so bad–the aches that spread through your body, the chills, the paranoia–you were sure they'd last forever. You were hung up the longest, staying in your room a week before you could finally venture out with the others. They were all happy to finally see you–or as happy as they could be, given their current situation.

Nikki looked awful, his skin an ashy pale, his eyes bloodshot, the skin around them dark and sunken in–not that he ever looked that great normally, thanks to the drugs. You weren't looking much better, and both of you were sweaty and shaking as you felt the need for a hit of your respective vices coursing through you like fire in your veins.

Tommy was probably the next worst off, the withdraws hitting him hard. He looked tired as hell, and he was just as sweaty as you and Nikki. His handsome face contorted in pain as he sat across from you, smoking a cigarette–the one thing you were still allow in this hellhole.

Then there was Mick. He wasn't feeling the loss of any drugs, but his body was having to adjust to zero alcohol. His normally pale skin had a sickly yellow tint from a case of jaundice. Ironically, his liver had become so used to functioning with gallons of alcohol, once he stopped drinking, it suddenly had to readjust and find a way to function without it–and it was having a hard time with that adjustment.

Finally there was Vince, the only one of the five of you who wasn't feeling like total dog shit. He had already been through rehab once, so this wasn't his first rodeo. Sure, he'd drank after he got out, but he wasn't going nearly as hard as Mick or the rest of you, and he wasn't using anymore, so he didn't need to detox. Honestly, he looked okay–other than the shitty gray sweats they made you all wear.

If the others weren't there, you don't think you have made it this far. Your resolve was breaking down more and more every day–thinking about how badly you wanted a hit. One pill, one line of coke, one shot of Jack. Something. Anything. Just something to take the pain away. If the boys hadn't been there to support you–if they weren't there suffering with you–you'd have left the first day, and you knew it. You felt weak, but at least you had them to help you through this; and you tried to help them too.

"How're we feeling today boys?" You ask, stabbing your fork into your asparagus. The food there was okay for cafeteria food, but while you didn't mind it, you knew some of your more picky friends were less than pleased with it.

"Like shit." Mick answers, taking a drink of water. You smirk as you take a small bite. Leave it to Mick to make you smile even when you feel like garbage.

"So the usual." You reply back. "How about you Vince?"

"I'd be better if I could get a damn decent meal in this dump." He says, looking down at the meat on his tray with disgust. You laugh, though it hurts you.

"You're such a fucking diva." You say, smiling at him fondly. Vince was Vince no matter where he was.

"At least you can eat." Nikki whines, laying his head on the table. "I just end up barfing up half the shit I eat." You shiver. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You stomach already feeling a little uneasy at the thought of putting more solid food in it.

"No shit dude! I can't keep fucking anything down. I threw up less when I was drinking and doing drugs!" Tommy whines, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"The doctors say it'll pass, we just have to give it time." You try to encourage them, but you can't help but push your tray away.

"It does get better–though it'd help if the food was less shitty." Vince says, being supportive while still managing to get a dig at the food in.

"We're gonna be here awhile man–you better get fucking used to it." Nikki says, looking over at him.

—

And so the days went by, and slowly–very slowly, it seemed–your withdraw symptoms started to fade. You couldn't say they ever completely went away, they just sort of dulled, became manageable. And while you started to feel better physically, you had plenty of other things to deal with.

You had a lot of therapy to go through once you started improving physically. Both group and one-on-one. Group was a lot–having to do therapy with the boys was not always something you enjoyed. At first they didn't all take it seriously, especially Nikki who wanted nothing more than to be a dick and play the whole thing off like one big joke and waste of time.

Eventually though, you all started to open up, and things got rough. Lots of truths coming to light, lots of emotions, and lots of crying–particularly on your part. You felt like you had things to work out with everyone except Mick, who you gratefully had avoided ever having any problems or bad experiences with. The other three however, all had baggage you had avoided dealing with–and that's not including all the shit they had with each other.

First up was Vince. Maybe because he'd already been through this before, but he opened up easier than the other boys did. And when he did, the first thing he brought up was the last thing you wanted to talk about: Razzle. You'd told Vince you didn't blame him for what happened–and that was true, you blamed yourself. But there was always a part of you–a sad, bitter part of you buried deep, deep down–that still couldn't quite forgive Vince.

You talked about Razzle a lot in your solo counseling sessions. You were slowly working on untangling your feelings about the whole ordeal; working on unweaving the intricate web that had woven itself around your heart. You were having a hard time accepting that it wasn't your fault–but you were trying, and every day you were getting closer to closer to the closure you had denied yourself for the last three years. You knew now, it didn't have to be anyone's fault.

Bad things happen; that's out of our control. What we can control is what we chose to do with the time we have. How can we chose to live our lives for the people we've lost. Razzle wouldn't want you blaming yourself–punishing yourself–forever. He loved you, he'd want you to be happy.

You knew that.

So now that you had started to accept Razzle's death–really, truly accept it for the first time since that horrible day three years ago–you were finally ready to talk to Vince about it. And you did. It was hard, there were a lot of tears from both of you, but you both made it through feeling lighter than when you'd started. Instead of saying you didn't blame him, this time you forgave him, and you ended the whole thing with a long, heartfelt hug.

Next on the emotional rollercoaster was Tommy. You had been talking about your feelings for him to your counselor–that was another thing you talked about frequently. You had no intentions of ever telling him the truth about your feelings, but there was another incident that you felt you had to come clean about–even if you had to risk Nikki's scorn.

So one day at group you confessed to Tommy about what happened between Nikki and Roxie, and that you'd known all along. You told him you kept it a secret to protect him, but you realize now he deserved to know then, and you regret lying to him. That you regret where your friendship was as a whole during that time.

Tommy shot Nikki a nasty glare, but told you it was okay–he understood why you hid the truth from him. At the time, the news would have killed him, but now he had Heather, who would never do anything like that. He had his own regrets about how he treated you because of your relationship with Razzle–he said he didn't understand what it meant to really be in love then, but now that he did, he understood where you had been coming from.

Hearing him talk about Heather that way cut you like a knife. There had been some part of you–some stupid, childish part–that still hoped maybe there was some mutual feelings between the two of you. You had taken too long to realize your feelings for it to matter, but it would be enough just to know Tommy had ever felt that way about you too. But hearing he'd never really been in love until Heather dashed any hope you may have had that Tommy ever loved you too.

Then, after a long while, Nikki started to open up more. The two of you talked about a lot of things; things that had been building up between the two of you for years. Things that needed to be out in the open if you could ever move forward. You knew you had a lot of feelings–a lot of regrets–but you hadn't realized Nikki had so many too.

You talked about how grateful you were that he'd always looked out you, ever since you were a child. He told you he was thankful that you stuck by him all this time, even through all the shit. You told him you'd been scared when he'd started to act differently because of the drugs, like he was turning into someone else. He told you he was afraid of losing you to Razzle so he'd lashed out–then he'd felt even worse when Razzle died, so he pushed you even further away.

You told him you were ashamed of your drug use and how you let it blind you to how badly he needed help. He told you he was also ashamed; he knew how much you were using and instead of helping you, he'd used it as a tool against you to keep you off his back about his own drug problem. You told him no matter what you would always love him, because he was your big brother. And he said he loved you too.

The whole session was emotional and you were both crying by the end of it. You hugged him, glad to finally have all of your thoughts out there without it ending in an argument. You had missed Nikki–your Nikki, your big brother who you'd known all your life, not the asshole who'd been walking around with his face for the last few years. The thought that you might actually get your brother back after all this time was a silver lining to all this bullshit.

You didn't have Razzle. You couldn't have Tommy. Now you didn't have the drugs–but at least you had Nikki back to his old self again. That was something. A victory. You hadn't had many of those in the last couple years, and this seemed like a big one.

You'd take it.

—

March, 1988

You were going on two months now, and you were feelings better every day. The physical side of things was just taking it one day at a time, but the therapy was really starting to help. You'd waded through the thick of it with the boys, came out the other side feeling so much lighter than you had before. You talked to your therapist one-on-one every day, and you worked through everything from Razzle's death to your childhood abuse and your issues with your mother.

You realized there was medication you could take for your panic attacks if you needed it, but that the therapy was helping you work through some of the problems that caused them in the first place. For the first time in a long time, you were starting to feel genuinely good about your situation and your future. There was still work to do–a lot of work–but talking through your problems without the drugs was helping you feel the best you'd felt in years.

You were in your room, reading. There was only so much you could do with your free time, and you didn't really feel like hanging out with everyone at the moment. You loved spending time with them, but you had started to realize that sometimes you were too reliant on spending time with other people–you needed to less afraid of being alone. So you made an effort to spend more time on your own. Still, when Tommy came knocking on your door looking for someone to hangout with, you weren't about to turn him down–Pride and Prejudice could wait.

You scooted over as Tommy jumped in bed next to you. While you had tried to stop yourself from being so openly close with him since he got married, Tommy never seemed to care. Then again, Tommy actively cheated on his wife, so who knew what was really going through his head.

"Whatcha reading?" He asks, twirling his drumstick between his fingers. Even though he couldn't practice while he was here, he still carried his drumsticks around with him everywhere. You smiled, reminded of the first night you'd met.

"Pride and Prejudice." You reply.

"Never heard of it." He says. Figures. "What's it about?"

"Hmmm." You think for a minute. "This girl from a poor family turns down a super wealthy, handsome guy who wants to marry her because he's a total dick who insults her and her family."

"She sounds like a badass." He says, nodding his head in approval.

"Yeah, she is." You agree. "Except she realizes after she's turned him down that she was totally wrong about him, and that they're actually really perfect for each other and that she's totally in love with him." You say, looking at the book sadly.

"Oh damn–so what happens?" He asks, seeming genuinely interested.

"I don't know, I haven't finished it yet." You answer.

"Huh. Well when you do you'll have to let me know." He replies with a smile. You smile back, staring up at him.

"Yeah, sure Tommy." You've been staring too long. You clear your throat. "So did you have a reason for coming in here to bother me, or were you just bored?"

"What, I have to have a reason to hang with my best friend?" He asks, faking offence. You laugh.

"No, I was just asking." You reply.

"Nah, I just got off the phone with Heather and I was walking by–figured I'd come in a bug you." He explains. You heart sinks at the mention of the other woman's name. You quickly smile to cover your real feelings.

"Oh yeah? How's she doing?" You ask.

"Aw man, she's great. I don't know how I ever got so lucky." He says, leaning his head back against the wall as he smiles. It felt like someone stabbed a knife through your heart.

"Good–I'm happy for you Tommy." You said, trying your best to smile. "You deserve to be happy." You meant it. Even if it wasn't with you, you were grateful Tommy was happy. That much was true.

"I know it's been tough for you, since Razzle, but I know you'll find love again." Tom says, looking at you with sincerity in his eyes. You stare at him, and for a split second you think about telling him everything. But just as fast as the urge hits you, it subsides.

It would be cruel to tell him. Who would you be helping, really? He just told you how happy he was–why complicate things by confessing your feelings now, when there's no way he could reciprocate? You smile back at him.

"Thanks Tommy–maybe someday." You lied.


	13. Chapter 13

1990

A lot had happened in the last year.

Rehab had been a success for you and the boys, and you all had managed to stay sober through the recording of Dr. Feelgood–Motley Crue’s first number one album. Nikki had surprised you all and gotten married; and while Brandi seems like a genuinely nice girl, you were just glad to finally see your brother happy and committed to someone for a change. 

Still, not everything was so well. 

You were back out on the road touring for the new album, and the band was feeling the strain. They had never toured without booze and drugs before, and it was clearly getting to them. Not only that, there was trouble at home for Vince and Tommy, and neither of the were handling it well.

Normally, they’d party their frustrations away–get drunk, do some drugs, then find some chicks to forget their wives with for a little while–but without that outlet to fall back on, they had to find other ways to cope. Vince took it out on his bandmates–usually choosing to argue with Nikki or Tommy–while Tommy chose to either argue with Vince, or bottle up his feelings entirely. Of course, the both still cheated, but without the drinks and drugs it apparently wasn’t enough of a release for them. You tried to talk to them about it, but they both brushed you off for one reason or another. 

Vince’s growing animosity with Nikki, and on occasion Tommy, made him start to keep you at arm’s length. He didn’t have a problem with you personally, but your closeness with the other two made it difficult for him to open up to you despite your efforts to talk to him. As time when on, he just kept pushing you further away, becoming more distant, and you worried just how far he was would drift from you and the others before he would just disappear all together.

You and Tommy were just as close as always–closer even, since rehab helped you get past some of your old bullshit–he just didn’t want to talk about his problems with Heather. Part of the problem was that he didn’t totally understand what was wrong; what little he would say about it was that she was being ‘weird and distant’ and that she wasn’t answering his calls, so he didn’t really know enough to talk about. 

But you also thought part of him was just too scared to talk about it. Tommy had dreamed about true love his whole life, and he found it–it had probably never occurred to him that he could lose it. Things had always gone so well with Heather; for there to suddenly be signs of trouble brewing probably terrified him. You wanted to talk to him about it–comfort him, if you could–but if he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t want to force the issue.

Aside from the personal problems, there was also the issue of Nikki running the show. 

When Doc was fired, Nikki had taken over trying to manage the band alone. He wasn’t doing an awful job, and you helped him out as much as he would let you given his control freak personality. Still, it was the cause of a lot of the fights between him and Vince.

—

You and the boys were sitting at a table in the middle of a strip club, drinking waters and looking miserable. A waitress walks by with a tray of lemon drops, offering you the shots. They look amazing, and you can just imagine the sweet and sour shot burning down your throat, but none of the boys had drank this tour and you weren’t about to be the first to fall off the wagon. Nikki sends her away with an order for another round of waters–Vince looks less than pleased. Trying to escape the tense atmosphere, you glance over your shoulder to look at Tommy. 

He was standing at the payphone, looking upset as he talks into the handpiece; Heather must still be dodging his calls. You stared at him a little longer–watched the frustration and confusion on his handsome face–and even though you should be happy that things weren’t going well, you couldn’t help but hurt for him. You didn’t want Tommy to be unhappy, no matter what the reason behind it.

“They’re keeping us on the road–15 new days in Canada.” Nikki says, bringing your attention back to the table.

“I haven’t seen anything about any new days.” Vince says, looking annoyed. Uh oh. This would end in another fight if Nikki wasn’t careful. 

“Check your itinerary man.” Nikki replies.

“I would, but apparently someone doesn’t think it’s important to let the lead fucking singer know what the fuck is going on here.” Vince snaps.

“I’ll get you a copy of the new itinerary Vince.” You reply, trying to deescalate the situation. Just then, Tommy plops down in the seat next to you.

“Guys I fucked up. Heather’s being all weird and distant and–I drank.” He says, looking ashamed. “Well, a little–I had one shot and I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna have a fucking cocktail too man.” Vince says before you have a chance to respond. “What are you gonna do about it Nikki?”

“Okay look everyone falls off the wagon one and awhile–” Nikki replies.

“Oh fuck you man, fuck off! Fuck the rest of this tour! It is the no fucking fun tour, and I am sick and tired of not having any fun.” Vince shouts, standing up.

“Vince!” You call out to him as he walks off, but he ignores you.

“Just let him go y/n.” Tommy says as Nikki chases after him.

You watch as Nikki confronts Vince, who physically pushes Nikki away before taking a shot. Just like that, sobriety was out the window. Nikki comes back up and sits down.

“Shit.” He says, slumping in his seat.

“I’ll get him the itinerary when we get back Nikki, and we’ll sort this out, okay?” You say, trying to be supportive. “It was just one drink; he was just angry because he’s stressed out.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to send him the new fucking itinerary.” Nikki says.

“It’s fine, you’ve got a lot on your plate. Don’t stress about it; I’ll take care of it.” You reply. He looks over at you.

“You probably wouldn’t have forgotten.” Nikki muses, before sighing, hanging his head. “You’re right y/n, I do have a lot on my plate–too much, probably. I’ve been thinking for awhile now that I’m not really cut out for this manager shit–that I should probably hand over the reigns to someone whose better suited to the work so I can get back to just focusing on the music.” He lifts his head to look at you. “So what do you say? You wanna be our manager?” You stare at him like a deer in headlights.

“Excuse me?” You ask, stunned.

“You guys are cool with that, right?” Nikki asks, looking over at Tommy and Mick.

“Fuck yeah dude! That’s awesome.” Tommy says, smiling over at you. Even after everything, his smile made your heart race.

“About time if you ask me; she’s the obvious choice.” Mick says, taking a drink of his water, a smile playing on his lips.

“You really want me to be your manager?” You ask, looking back at Nikki.

“Yeah. You already have experience helping Me and Doc, and I mean who’s better qualified to take care of us than you?” Nikki asks, smirking.

“You are uniquely qualified for the position–you’ve got nearly 10 years experience cleaning up our messes.” Mick jokes.

“I don’t know, I made a lot of those messes too.” You reply, smiling.

“Hell yeah you did!” Tommy says, raising his hand expectantly. You laugh, giving him a high-five.

“I’m just saying; yeah, maybe we could hire someone with more experience in management–but we could never find someone we trust more.” Nikki says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been with Motley Crue from the very beginning–you deserve this–and we know you’ll always do what’s best for this band.” You had to stop yourself from tearing up.

“Okay, if everyone’s cool with this–I’ll do it.” You say, smiling from ear to ear. “But you have to talk to Vince about it too.”

“Yeah, yeah–I don’t see why he’d have a problem with it, but I’ll tell him tomorrow when I bring him that fucking itinerary.” He says, leaning back and smirking at you.

—

February 1992

The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. You knew there wouldn’t be–Vince had become so flaky since Sharise had left. You look at the others, all looking pissed as you slowly hang up the phone.

“I’m telling you guys everything is fucking all upside down and flipped flopped and while we’re waiting for our lead singer to get his head out of his ass we’re getting left in the dust man!” Tommy says, standing behind his drumset. You sigh. “I’m just saying bands replace their frontmen and it still works okay? Van Halen–”

“I know Van Halen fucking did it cause you say that every single time Vince misses a fucking rehearsal.” Nikki snaps.

“Come on Tommy, he’s just going through a lot right now.” You try to reason with him. “Wouldn’t you be a little off your game if Heather left you?”

“Don’t even fucking say that man.” Tommy says.

“I mean, can’t you all just try and be a little empathetic for once? Please?” You ask.

“Whatever; just call the prick again.” Mick says. You sigh, making your way over to the phone, while Nikki moves over to the fax machine. You have a feeling you’re not going to be happy about the message he sends.

—

You’re working on some paperwork while the boys continue with rehearsal without Vince, when the blonde comes marching into the studio. 

“Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Vince asks, clearly pissed.

“Let’s save us all some time, especially yours Vince as it’s clearly more valuable than ours!” Nikki snaps back. You stand up and move towards them.

“You’d better tell me what the fuck’s going on man.” Vince says again.

“What’s going on is we’re down here, and we’re working, and we wanna be here, but we are tired of forcing you to be here with us.” Nikki says.

“Maybe I’d come in more if I liked the material.” Vince jeers.

“Maybe you’d like the material if you were in the studio making it with us instead of staring at your fucking watch!” Tommy jumps up and shouts.

“Woah, let’s all come down.” You say, getting between them.

“Yeah, I’m staring at my watch because this album is fucking stupid!” Vince yells back. There’s a silence as the boys all look at each other. “You know what fuck all y’all. You know, I’m done. Fuck this, I quit.”

“Vince!” You call after him as he makes his way to the door.

“Good, ‘cause you’re fucking fired!” Nikki yells back.

“Nikki!” You shout at your brother, looking between him and Vince.

“I quit already, dick.” Vince says, walking out. Nikki slams the door behind him. You look up at him, as the room fills with a heavy silence, the weight of what just happened hitting them. Before anyone has the chance to say anything, you quickly run out after Vince.

“Vince!” You called his name through the rain, but he was already getting into his car. You quickly make your way through the downpour and jumped into the passenger’s seat before he can drive off.

“What the fuck?” He looks over at you in surprise.

“I couldn’t just let you leave before we talked.” You say, your wet hair dripping water on the leather of the seat as you look over at him.

“I’m not going back in there y/n–I’m done.” He says, looking out the windshield.

“So what, that’s it? Just like that? You’re just gonna walk away?” You ask, not even trying to hide the tears pooling in your eyes.

“It had to happen sometime y/n–we all knew this was coming.” He said, still not looking at you.

“It didn’t have to Vince–it still doesn’t. I can talk to them, I can–” He puts his hand on yours.

“It’s over y/n. Let it go.” Vince says, looking into your eyes. You feel a tear slide down your cheek.

“So now what?” You ask. “What are you gonna do?” He moves his hand away and looks back out the windshield.

“I don’t know. I’ve still got my racing–and hey, I could always try making it as a solo artist.” He smiles over at you. “You wouldn’t happen to know any good managers, would you?” You laugh.

“Oh the boys would hate that.” You reply.

“Fuck’m–it’s your life, do what you want.” Vince replies. “Just think it over and let me know, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.” You reply, reaching for the door handle. You stop, looking back at him. “And Vince, I just want you to know; no matter what happens–any of the drama or the bullshit that may come from this–you’re still my friend, okay? You’re important to me, and I love you.” Vince blushes, looking away.

“Yeah yeah, I love you too–now shut up and get out of my car.”

—

1993

You somehow convince the boys it would be fine if you manage them and Vince, and things for him were going fairly well. His first solo album, Exposed, was doing moderately well on the charts. Meanwhile, you were trying your best to deal with a Motley Crue without Vince Neil. John Corabi was brought in to be the new lead singer for the band, and while he was a good singer and a nice enough guy–he just wasn’t Vince.

The fans knew it too. As much as Nikki and the others tried to promote John, everyone just wanted Vince back. Of course you did too, but what could you do? The band had succeeded because they were a group of stubborn fools who didn’t know when to give up, but that also meant they didn’t know how to back down from a fight–even when they knew they’d fucked up. No one wanted to admit they were wrong and come ‘crawling back’ to the other, so they were stuck in a stalemate.

—

You were sitting at home in your office, going over some paperwork for Vince, when you phone rings.

“Hello, y/n Sixx speaking.” You say absently as you continue reading over the paper in your hand.

“Y/N?” It was Tommy. He sounded upset. You set the paper down on the desk.

“Tommy? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N, I-I fucked up man, I fucked up so bad.” He stammers. “Fuck y/n, I, I–”

“Whoa, Tommy! Calm down.” You say, clutching the phone tightly. “Just tell me what happened.” 

“There was this fucking article–someone got pictures. Damn I’m so fucking stupid!” He shouts.

“Tommy, you’re not making any sense.” After a long stretch of silence, you hear a sob come through the line.

“Heather knows I cheated. She left me y/n–she’s kicking me out.” Your breath catches in your throat. 

A rush of emotions hits you like a freight train–too many to sort through at once. Anger, sadness, pity, illation, hope, guilt; each coming one after another. Anger at Tommy for cheating again. Sadness and pity at the pain he must be going through. Illation and hope because finally, finally, you might have a chance with him. And lastly guilt, that you would even consider your own feelings now, when he was in so much pain.

“Y/N?” Tommy calls out to you, snapping you out of your trance.

“Oh, oh god Tommy I’m so sorry.” You say, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. “Um, if, if you need somewhere to stay for awhile, you’re more than welcome to crash with me.” You offer.

“Really? You’re sure that’s cool?” He asks.

“Yeah of course.” You say. “It’ll be just like old times.” He laughs through a sob.

“Yeah, old times.” He repeats.

“You want me to come by? I can help you bring some stuff over.” You ask.

“Thanks y/n. God, what would I do without you?” He replies, and you smile to yourself.

You didn’t want to be this happy about Tommy’s marriage failing, but it had been seven years–seven long years, and you had given up hope of ever getting your chance with Tommy. 

Now, you might finally have one–a chance–and that thought alone nearly made your heart leap out of your chest.


End file.
